#I'd remember it every few years later with anger

[ailelie]

Fairy tales when I was very little. I demanded stories constantly. My grandmother would make up new ones to keep up with the demand.

(There was a summer between fourth and fifth grade when I was obsessed with finding a way to create oxygen from water so that we could have underwater colonies (this after I discarded the idea of long tubes to the surface). I found a book that suggested electricity would work, but when I showed a teacher, she was acted like I was being very foolish and childish and so I put the idea aside. When I learned in high school that I hadn't misunderstood the book and electrolysis is actually a thing, I felt so vindicated).

(The underwater colonies would be stationed near underwater steam vents, btw, for heat and I had ideas for the barrier as well. I wanted something flexible for the outermost layer leading to something very rigid on the innermost. I was researching good materials for that outermost layer when my teacher made me feel like an idiot).

When I got a bit older (fifth grade, maybe fourth and it overlapped the above), vampires and serial killers. My first forays into the adult section of the library were for books about serial killers.

[joycrispy]

I found the quote I was trying to remember earlier:

Terry looked at me. He said: “Do not underestimate this anger. This anger was the engine that powered Good Omens.” I thought of the driven way that Terry wrote, and of the way that he drove the rest of us with him, and I knew that he was right. [...] And that anger, it seems to me, is about Terry’s underlying sense of what is fair and what is not. It is that sense of fairness that underlies Terry’s work and his writing, and it’s what drove him from school to journalism to the press office of the SouthWestern Electricity Board to the position of being one of the best-loved and bestselling writers in the world. [...] Terry’s authorial voice is always Terry’s: genial, informed, sensible, drily amused. I suppose that, if you look quickly and are not paying attention, you might, perhaps, mistake it for jolly. But beneath any jollity there is a foundation of fury. Terry Pratchett is not one to go gentle into any night, good or otherwise. He will rage, as he leaves, against so many things: stupidity, injustice, human foolishness and shortsightedness, not just the dying of the light. And, hand in hand with the anger, like an angel and a demon walking into the sunset, there is love: for human beings, in all our fallibility; for treasured objects; for stories; and ultimately and in all things, love for human dignity. --Neil Gaiman, Sep. 24, 2014. theguardian.com.

These paragraphs have stuck with me for almost a decade. I read this article the day it came out, and it struck a chord that's still ringing, to be honest. Back then, I'd only read maybe 5 books of Discworld; this article was the first I'd heard of Good Omens.

I think of this --'do not underestimate this anger'-- literally every time I think of Terry Pratchett. I certainly thought of it when I finally did get around to Good Omens a few years later --as an audiobook, borrowed from my library. I listened for the sound of the engine.

Posting this here to remind myself to keep listening.

[omegalomania]

the thing is that i can still remember the way it felt.

end of november, 2022, suddenly every feed lights up. they're doing something. people are posting images of the chicago tribune, a full page ad that has this bicolored logo, a face both happy and sad, black and white, and it simply says: FOB8.

"is this real?" quite a few people were skeptical after the years-long pause between mania and now. "i'm not convinced."

"it's a full-page ad in a single chicago newspaper out of nowhere, right after joe got finished doing a whole book tour where he insisted they had no new music to speak of," i answered. "of fucking course it's real. it has fall out boy all over it."

i remember so vividly the sense of wonder that arrived on christmas morning of that same year, when i woke up at the exact right moment to learn that fall out boy did something again. an eerie, playful, earnest, weird claymation video with a haunting soundtrack, featuring a little black and brown dog. it was mystifying and bizarre and striking - a sprinkling of stardust on the dog's muzzle that prompted it to sneeze - and the adrenaline rush i got from the snippet of heart-pounding drums and guitar was the best gift i'd received all year.

so much (for) stardust. i've said it before and i'll say it again - it's a damn near perfect title. it's a play on words, it has multiple meanings nested into one another. given enough time, we all fall apart like so much dust, like so much stardust because that's where we came from. we are made of and from stardust. for stardust. so much for stardust. so much for the cosmic clay that shaped us. so much for this life, so much for the very foundational fucking firmament from which we we all sprang, so much for this whole strange weird existence. it's exhaustion and anger and spite and frustration and, at the same time - it's wonder. it's love. it's a doberman frozen in an instant of elated play, snapping at bubbles. it's a dog breed conventionally associated with danger captured in a moment of buoyant delight. it's an oil painting, surrounded by words shaped from sparkling clay.

it's love.

it's a record full to bursting with love. it's in the very first song they sent to us, sending us their love from the other side of the apocalypse. it's a record that says yes, the world is a mess and it feels insurmountable. maybe existence is meaningless. maybe it's all fucking pointless and we're all gonna die anyway. but like hell that means i'm not going to love life with all that i am. like hell i am going to let that stifle me. if nothing matters, then love is what matters.

and they committed to it, too. if there's one thing we can take away from so much for (tour)dust, it's that fall out boy loves us the way we love them. they'd have to, right? they could have called it quits years ago. hell, they could've packed it up after the hiatus and just never come back. they'd have to really love doing this to want to keep at it, years later, and look at that. they have.

fall out boy, at the end of the day, is propelled by love. they have to really love what they do to keep doing it. they have to love each other, love the music, love the fans, to keep doing what they do. this is something they've repeatedly asserted over the course of this tour and record cycle: the sheer, shared joy, the positive feedback loop of creative energy that comes from sharing something you made with the world and seeing the world respond in turn.

the world is a wreck and it feels, at times, like nothing you do matters or changes anything. so much (for) stardust is the antithesis to that kind of existential apathy. look, it says. look at what your love has changed. because as desolate and nightmarish and inescapable as the pitfalls of this strange, oftentimes terrifying existence can be - we have laughter, we have good friends, we have good music, and we have the ability to not let our own ennui defeat us. there are things in this world worth living for. there are things in this world worth loving. you have to love one another. you have to laugh and do whatever silly, inane thing makes you feel alive. you have to hug your friends and sing with them, cry with them, and savor every drop of this life that we get. prioritize love. be seriously unserious.

a week before this record came out, i spent some 6-7 hours in a car driving to a record store to hear it with a bunch of people, many of them strangers. i heard so much (for) stardust in its entirety in a record store with one of my favorite people, surrounded by awed chatter as we all drank it in. we didn't catch all the words, but the ones we heard sank into us and took root. i almost couldn't bear to wait for to hear the record properly.

a year later, it's sunk into the recesses of my soul. i'm not sure it'll ever come unstuck there. i don't think i want it to.

thanks for the stardust, fall out boy.

we love you back.

[vpgoldenrod]

Aziraphale's Haunted Look: On Being Forcibly Outed and Exiled From The Garden

While we're all talking about Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss, I'm surprised by those who thought Aziraphale looked disgusted because that's not an emotion I'd seen in him at all. There's sadness, and confusion, and anger, but I couldn't remember seeing disgust. When I watched the scene again I realized there's something else going on that really struck a chord with me. It's an uncomfortably familiar look.

He feels exposed. And I know what it feels like to be exposed in such a violent and intimate way.

Stay with me, I promise this is relevant to my analysis.

I didn't know what being transgender meant when I was a kid. Being raised in a fundamentalist Christian house meant that I wasn't exposed to those ideas, so I lived my life feeling like something was always just kind of broken. It was like I was looking right through the problem at other things, trying to alleviate symptoms without understanding why they existed in the first place. I eventually met other trans people, who gently nudged me in the direction of my truth. I even became aware that I had experienced some minor dysphoria. Every time I came close to acknowledging the truth however, my eyes would once again begin to glaze over the problem. I always managed to subconsciously shove it back into a little box and move on with my life. It was like I accidentally “did a big miracle” and hid this truth from myself so well that I continually forgot it was there.

Til one day I had an encounter that changed everything.

We're friends now but oddly enough, it was only meant to be a fling. I won't go into too many details because it's not just my story, but it was a lovely time that culminated with us meeting and doing what adults do. The person I was with, a cis man, silently clocked me the minute we were face to face. For reasons I now understand, without warning and in the middle of our shared intimate experience, he decided to talk dirty to me as if I were a gay man.

No one had ever spoken to me like that before. It had never occurred to me to ask anyone to do that, or that anyone would want to. I was in an intimate space and filled with the typical emotions and endorphins one has during sex, but it was a fling. I had walls up. So for the first time in my life, in this incredibly vulnerable position, someone grabbed me by my lapels and forced me to face a deep truth about myself that I'd spent decades silently dancing around. It was a blunt, irrefutable truth and it hit like a sucker punch to the solar plexus. He saw me when I was very much not trying to be seen, and there's few things more terrifying than that.

Even now, years later, I have such a hard time putting into words the overwhelming emotions I felt that night. There were so many, and yet somehow I can see every single one of the emotions I felt in Aziraphale's face when Crowley lets him go. My heart breaks all over again seeing how exposed he felt. He can barely make eye contact until he stumbles onto the one emotion that gives him his agency back: anger.

Gabriel shows up to the bookshop completely naked. When a bewildered Aziraphale points it out Gabriel says, “Who told you I was naked?”

But that's not how the story goes.

God looks for Adam in the garden, but he hides from her. He eventually tells God, “I heard your voice in the garden and I was afraid because I was naked, so I hid myself.”

Then God asks Adam, “Who told you you were naked?” And of course Adam knows he is naked because he ate the apple.

I've made jokes about Crowley being the apple that bit Aziraphale, but I forgot the bit that happens afterwards. He is aware of his own nakedness. He is exposed. To God, to Crowley, and to himself. As a result he is exiled from the safety of his Eden. Man, if this isn't the perfect analogy for being forcibly outed I don't know what is.

This show is so gay you guys.

[jiangchengisapurpleraccoon]

JC tried to speak up! But those evil Sect Leaders talked over him and shut him down! Meanwhile:

Jiang Cheng's brows were knitted. He rubbed the vein that throbbed at his temple and soundlessly took in a deep breath, "… I apologize to all of the Sect Leaders. Everyone, I'm afraid you don't know that the Wen cultivator whom Wei Wuxian wanted to save was called Wen Ning. We owe him and his sister Wen Qing gratitude for what happened during the Sunshot Campaign."

Nie MingJue, "You owe them gratitude? Isn't the QishanWen Sect the ones who caused the YunmengJiang Sect's annihilation?" Within these few years, Jiang Cheng insisted on working late into the night every day. That day, just as he decided to rest early, he had to rush to Koi Tower overnight because of the thundering news. He'd been suppressing some anger under his fatigue since the beginning. With his natural competitiveness, he was already quite agitated since he had to apologize to other people. When he heard Nie MingJue mention the incident of his sect again, hatred sprouted within him. The hatred was directed at not only everyone who was seated in this room, but also Wei Wuxian. Lan XiChen responded a moment later, "I have heard of Wen Qing's name a few of times. I do not remember her having participated in any of the Sunshot Campaign's crimes." Nie MingJue, "But she's never stopped them either." Lan XiChen, "Wen Qing was one of Wen RuoHan's most trusted people. How could she have stopped them?" Nie MingJue spoke coldly, "If she responded with only silence and not opposition when the Wen Sect was causing mayhem, it's the same as indifference. She shouldn't have been so disillusioned as to hope that she could be treated with respect when the Wen Sect was doing evil and be unwilling to suffer the consequences and pay the price when the Wen Sect was wiped out."

Chapter 73 Tell me, who is the only person within that room who has the information about Wen Qing's direct opposition to Wen Ruohan by saving his life? And who is highlighted to be cranky and filled of hatred because of his lack of sleep and keeps quiet the rest of the conversation after Nie Mingjue asks "You owe them gratitude?" He started to explain and shut up when Yunmeng's Massacre was mentioned, essentially because of his hatred about that incident, he kept quiet about what he owed the Wen siblings. You'd think Jiang Cheng was trying to tell them and they kept cutting him off or redirecting the conversation, (with how much credit people give JGS) but isnt it just that he wasn't in a good mood? I'd understand it alot more if he did explain his debt and them sheltering them and got shut down because then he would've at least tried to help them, but no, hes not scared or worried for his Sects safety, he's cranky and hateful

[dbnightingale24]

Fog In The Mind, Desire In The Heart

A Dark Curtis Everett Love Story

~~

Surprise! I decided to take a small break from the three novels I'm writing (I promise that your updates are coming!!), and finish the damn Curtis Everett one shot I promised you guys years ago. It may take me forever to get to the point, but I do eventually get there, in my defense. Anywho, this is a lot shorter than what you all are used to, but I hope you all enjoy it just the same! As always, thanks to the amazing @fuckingbyefor the moodboard! Here we go!

Word Count: 9911 (yes, you read that correctly)

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI 18+), Slight Snowpiercer AU, Slight Age Gap between Edgar and Reader (work with me people), Curtis Everett, Daddy Kink, Non Con/Dub Con, Drinking, Plotting, Self Hate, Loathing, Betrayal, Swearing, Angst, Mild Violence, Anger, Pining...I think that's it?

Songs That Inspired This Story: I'd Walk Through Fire For You, Just Let Me Adore You

Summary: Everyone stuck in the tail section dreamed of a better life for themselves. Everyone except for Curtis. For him, his better life would start when you were happy and by his side, no matter who he had to force out of the way.

~~

I do not give consent/permission for my stories/works to be posted/published elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

~~

~~

For as much as you hate Curtis, he lives rent free in your head all day. You sit at the bar that Nam so lovingly bar tends day in and day out, listening in and out of the conversation he makes almost every night.

“Right now isn’t the time, but you’ll see...the world will be livable again. Maybe another year or so, but we’ll be able to get off of this fucking train,” he tells you tonight, an echo of the same thing he’s been saying every night for the last two years.

“What did Curtis say?” you snicker, putting your empty glass down as he reaches for your favorite poison: whiskey.

“He’s busy,” Nam simply shrugs, refilling your glass with ice and the dark brown liquid.

“When isn’t he?”

“Y/N, you know what happened to Edgar-”

“He’s gone, Nam,” you snap unintentionally. “Whatever the hell Curtis meant to happen, didn’t. Edgar has been dead for two years and all the while we wait for the great Curtis Everett to come up with a fucking plan to make all of this not seem so shit as it is,” you sigh before downing your drink.

Your reasons for hating Curtis are very simple and clear for everyone to understand.

Everyone except Curtis.

You remember when you first boarded onto the stupid train that “saved” your life. You remember them ripping you away from your Mother, who sacrificed herself so you could have a chance at life, and her promising you that she’d meet up with you later on in the train.

She never did.

You know she only did it because she knew it was the only way you’d board the train, but the anger feel towards her never leaves.

It never has and it never will. 

That was the first time you saw him.

You were put into a group of young teenage girls, a place you barely belonged since you were almost 17, and you felt a pair of eyes on you. 

It’s not like that was uncommon, but it didn’t help anything. In fact, as time went on, on the train, you found that a lot of men had their eyes on you. You were beautiful, soft spoken but also opinionated, and kind. You were so understanding and helpful, unlike almost everyone else on the train who gave up hope as soon as the doors closed.

They all did their best to make you notice them, Curtis more than most, but you were more than happy to keep to yourself. 

At least, that’s until Edgar came of age. While he was younger than you by a few years, he was persistent and the only one who could truly make you smile and laugh. For as tense and gloomy as things could be, Edgar always found a way to soften everything. The first few times he asked you out (well, too hangout on his bed), you said no because of the age difference. 

“Who cares?” he laughed as he followed you to the little hospital section they had set up in one of the train cars.

“Clearly I do!”

“It’s not that bad!”

“Edgar-”

“What could it hurt? We’ll split a protein block, a cup of water, talk a bit, and I’ll walk you back to your bunk. It’ll be fun!”

“Edgar-”

“You know you want to, I see it in your eyes.”

“No Edgar,” you smiled softly before making your way to the children’s bunks to read them a story.

“You’ll say yes, you’ll see!” he called with a soft smile, before he turned and made his way back to his bunk.

After that, he didn’t let up. He asked almost every day until you finally caved and said yes. From that moment on, you two inseparable (after you both finished your daily chores). You loved to spend time reading to the children and he was more than happy to accompany you. The kids loved him anyway.

“What do you think about us having one?” Edgar asked one night as you two laid together after sex.

“Having one what?”

“Child?”

“Fuck no!”

“Shh,” he laughed softly, stroking your hair. “Why not?”

“You can’t be serious, babe. We live on a fucking train, the shittiest part of the train I might add, the world is frozen, the front end comes and randomly takes children whenever they please-”

“It won’t always be like this, plus, Curtis has a plan.”

“Oh? What plan is that?” you scoffed

Edgar had always been Curtis’ biggest supporter.

“Why don’t you believe in him?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe in him, but I’m not willing to follow blindly behind him. Everyone else is, and I just don’t see a reason to,” you shrugged.

“Y/N-”

“You asked me a question and I gave you an answer. It’s not my fault that you don’t like the answer, baby.”

Curtis had always been the one thing that got in the way of your relationship with Edgar. Edgar would willingly follow Curtis, no matter what he said or what he did, and you weren’t buying into any of it. Sure, Curtis seemed nice enough and he was kind when he wanted to be, but there was also a silent anger to him. A silent anger that always seemed like it could go off at any time. 

Plus, it’s not exactly like he was thrilled when you and Edgar started seeing each other. Once again, a lot of the men weren’t, but everyone could see how happy you were. How well you and Edgar fit together. Curtis, on the other hand, rolled his eyes whenever he saw the two of you together. 

“Why don’t you come and help us tonight? You always have an idea-”

“No,” you laughed and Edgar scowled. “That’s your thing, not mine.”

“If you’d come, you’d see there’s nothing to hate about-”“I don’t hate Curtis!” you snapped softly and he rolled his eyes, “I just...something isn’t right there. You all just follow and believe everything that he says, and that’s not okay.”

“You always find a reason to doubt him and hes never given you a reason to.”

“And hes never given you a reason to trust him so much!”

“I’m not having another argument about this-”

“Good, because I’m tired of him somehow always becoming the center of our relationship.”

“Y/N-”

“You’re gonna be late. Go.”

You hated arguing so much with him about Curtis, but he didn’t know the things that you knew about him. Besides the fact that his eyes always lingered on you for far much longer than they should have, you knew about the things that Edgar was too young to remember. You knew what happened to his Mother, you knew what almost happened to Edgar, and you knew that Curtis would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

Besides, by the way he watched you like you were his prey, you knew he’d stop at nothing to get you. So, when it was finally time for the “great uprising” you begged Edgar to stay behind with you.

“We’ve spent too long planning and plotting for me to stay behind-”

“You can stay with me!” you sobbed and he shook his head.

“Trust me! Believe in me! I can do this!”

“Edgar-”

“We’ll have a future, children, space-”

“I just want you! Please-”

“I’ll come back to you and you’ll see. I promise you, it’ll be okay. I love you.”

That was the last time you saw him alive.

When word got back to you how he’d been killed, and who let it happen, something inside you snapped. You became violent, you lost all patience, you attacked anyone who got in your way as you started on your own journey to the front, and you led everyone who had stayed behind to the front of the train with you. By the time you got there, Wilford had been killed and Curtis was the new leader. Of course, no one noticed all of the changes in Curtis’ attitude, as if you all owed him your lives, because he’d apparently made your lives better. He made changes that made years of suffering finally seem like they had been worth something. 

Everyone except you.

“Curtis wants to see you,” one of the girls tells you as she approaches the bar. 

Sansa, who’s his regular girl. 

“Just give him time,” Nam repeats softly, filling your glass one last time. 

You roll your eyes and down your drink before you follow Sansa to the very front of the train.

This isn’t the first time you’ve been called to his bedroom. Hell, it isn’t even the 100th time. Not long after the battle ended and changes were made, Curtis Everette made it very well known to everyone on the train,��that you are his absolute favorite. Not so much with his words, but with his actions. He’d made it seem as if it were out of honor for Edgar, but the way he watched you let you know that, that was bullshit. No, he never called you into his bed, but he also made sure to never let you get close to another man again.

He made sure you never had to work, you never wanted for anything, you always had fresh clothes waiting for you, and you had one of the best rooms on the train. 

“Edgar sacrificed his life so you could have a better one. It only makes sense that you have the best of everything,” he whispered the night that he’d helped you settle into your new room.

In return, you’ve made it known that you’ll always despise him.

“What?” you snap the second you step foot inside his room.

He looks at you with his bourbon shot eyes, and you scoff. He’s in one of his moods.

“You could be a little nicer to me, Y/N.”

“Everyone on this train is nice enough to you. Now, what do you want? What’s the point of giving me a room if you never actually let me stay in it.”

“What’s wrong with you today?” he sneers, pouring himself another drink.

“You’re still here and Edgar isn’t.”

“Edgar made his choice-”

“Edgar worshiped you and blindly followed you into battle, and you couldn’t give less of a shit about what happened to him.”

“That’s not true!”

You scoff and narrow your eyes at him, “then why do you call me here every fucking night?”

“I’ve never done anything-”

“I know you’re not drunk enough to lie to me,” you warn with a snarl.

No, technically Curtis has never done anything to you, but hes found ways to...mess with you. 

He’s had you stay in the rooms while hes fooled around with other women, sometimes multiple at once, if he gets drunk enough, he watches you bathe and get dressed, hes gone out of his way to show you just how badly he wants you, and he never lets you stay away from him for too long. No, he’s never forced himself on you and taken you, but hes always been just a few steps away from doing so.

With Edgar out of the way, he’s free to do whatever he pleases.

However, the problem is, Curtis wants you to want him. He wants you to burn for him just as bad as he burns for you. At one point, that would’ve been possible. It was never that you found him unattractive or unapproachable, something just always seemed...off. Now that, that’s been confirmed, you’re repulsed by the man.

Even if you do still find him painfully attractive.

A sick smirk comes to his face as he makes his way over to you, “I’ve never done anything that haven’t found yourself enjoying.” “Yes, because I love spending my nights watching fuck other women.”

“Could be you.”

“You can let go of that dream. If it never happened before, it sure as fuck isn’t gonna happen now.”

Without warning, he’s gripping your neck tight and forcing you against the wall, and you do your best to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach.

“You can pretend all you want to, but I know how bad you want it. I hear you at night when you think I’m asleep. The pathetic little moans and whimpers, and your desperate begging.”

Your eyes go wide and he chuckles darkly.

“You’re not as slick as you think, honey.”

“It’s not for you, so don’t go getting a big ego.” “It sure as shit isn’t for Edgar, even when you were fucking him regularly. He could never truly satisfy you. Not in the way you needed.” “You’re a bastard!”

“How many times did you picture me every time he fucked you, hmm? How many times do you picture me when you’re alone in that cozy little room of yours?”

You don’t know what the hell has gotten into him, because he’s never been this forceful with you before.

“Never!”

“You should be thanking me,” he growls, his grip on your neck getting tighter as he leans in close. “Maybe I should stop being so fucking nice to you and just take it.” “Don’t you fucking dare!”

“What will you do, huh? The only crying you’ll be doing is when I’m done with you and you’re begging for more of my cock.”

Of all the fucking times to be turned on.

“Curtis-”

“You fucking want it,” he continues, “even now, I know that little pussy is crying to be touched. To fucked until it’s ruined!”

You push him off of you and glare at him.

“Admit it! You orchestrated all of this so you could-”

“He knew what he was getting himself into! He knew the chance he was taking-”

“He trusted you!”

“That was his fault!”

There it is.

“So you admit it!”

“I’d do it again! Why did he deserve you but I didn’t?! I still don’t?! After all I’ve done for you?!”

“You’re monster!”

“Sticks and stones,” he smirks before pressing you against the wall again. “Maybe I should show you just how much of a monster I am.”

His lips are on yours and when you try to push him off of you, he doubles down on his efforts. Squeezing at the stitches in his other arm, he hisses in pain, dropping his glass and backs up for just a moment. He slaps you hard before going in for another kiss, but you’re quick to knee him in the groin.

“Bitch!”

You’re quick to run out and make your way to room, not sure of where else there is to hide, and before you can slide the door close, he’s pushing you in and slamming it shut behind him.

“Get out!”

“Get on the fucking bed!” “Curtis-”

“Fine, you want this to be rough? I can be as rough as you want me to be, baby,” he promises as he locks the door.

“HELP!”

“No one is going to go against me, no one is going to save you, and no one is gonna feel bad for you. Scream all you fucking want, they’ll know you’re just enjoying it,” he promises with a sinister smile.

Seeing no other way out of this, you rush him against the wall and just start hitting him with all the power you have in your body.

“I’ve never had to work for it,” he taunts, easily pushing you back. “Never had to make a bitch admit just how bad she wants me!”

“I hate you! I want nothing to do with you!”

“Is that what you’d tell yourself every time you’d make eye contact with me while he was fucking you? Looking down at me as he fucked up into you, telling you just how much he loves and adores you?” he counters, easily wrapping an arm around your waist, easily throwing you down on the bed. “When you knew I was getting off to your hushed moans? You didn’t want anything to do with me then either? You didn’t want me making you scream?”

You hate that he has a point because, to an extent, you did want one him at one point. You wanted him bad. It’s part of why you’d turn down Edgar so many times. No, you never had any intention of pursuing Curtis, but you were attracted to him. Far more than you were to Edgar, and you felt incredibly guilty about it. You would’ve been content to be alone, but Edgar never relented and you eventually found it cute.

Of course you knew what Curtis was doing whenever the two of you locked eyes, but you truly never thought he’d let Edgar get killed so he could get you. The worst part of it is, even now that you know the truth of it all, you still want Curtis. In some sick way, the fact that he did something so horrible just to have you all to himself drove you insane in the worst way. You aren’t losing the fight because he’s overpowering you, you’re losing the fight because you’re tired of fighting it.

“Don’t get quiet on me now,” he snickers as pulls his top off and throws it across the room. “Don’t tell me that you’re a filthy little liar,” he presses as he rips your top open.

“Leave me alone!” “No, I’m done waiting around,” he husks, pulling your bra down. “Fuck!”

“Curtis-”

“You’re gonna shut the fuck up and you’re gonna enjoy everything daddy has to offer you,” he warns before dipping down and enveloping his right breast in his mouth; lewdly licking and sucking on it in the most depraved way.

“O-oh! Curtis!”

It’s been so long since you’ve been touched by anyone else.

“That’s right,” he mumbles before nipping on your nipple, while his other hand works on undoing your jeans, “I know exactly what you need, you little bitch.”

Your breathing comes heavier as his hand makes its way down into your panties, finding your overstimulated bundle of nerves.

“You’re fucking soaked!”

“Stop-”

“Stop fucking fighting me!” he warns, his other hand making it’s way around your throat. “You fucking want it! You’ve always fucking wanted it!”

You’re not sobbing because he’s doing something wrong, you’re sobbing because he’s right. Edgar would probably be alive if you’d just kept saying no to him.

“That’s right, baby. Just let me take care of you,” he moans, easily sliding a finger into you.

“Curtis,” you moan, bucking your hips forward.

“So beautiful, baby,” he coos, finally giving your other nipple attention, “waited so fucking long!”

“Oh fuck!”

You do your best to block out all images of Edgar and every feeling of guilt you felt. For whatever reason, Curtis wasn’t letting you go tonight and you didn’t want him to.

“You can barely take two fingers,” he groans, adding another thick finger to your sopping cunt as you rake your nails across his back. “Gonna have to get you ready for me. God, these fucking tits!” he husks.

“Please!” you whimper, feeling both pleasure and pain at the way he’s pulling you apart, “don’t fucking stop!”

“We’re gonna be at this a while,” he promises with a smirk as he picks up his pace. 

He resumes his assault on your left nipple for just a bit longer, before he finally starts leaving a trail of sloppy wet kisses down your body, pulling your pants down along the way. 

You’ve never had a guy go down on you before. Before you’d been put on the train, you’d only had sex twice and the both of you were inexperienced. When you were with Edgar, you two weren’t free to explore much. The most you’d been able to do was give him a blowjob, even that was uncomfortable.

“So fuckin’ pretty for me,” Curtis purrs against your pussy lips, “been waitin’ for me.”

The first lick is just a tease and you whine in protest, the second is right against your clit and whine his name as you dig your nails into his shoulders, and with the third he’s finally diving right in and claiming you as his own with his tongue.

“Oh God! Don’t fucking stop!” you beg pathetically, your legs starting to tremble as he massages your clit with his thumb. “Fuck!”

The sounds of his of his pornographic moans and roughness of his beard on your thighs somehow make you even more feral, and you can’t resist looking down. The sight of him buried between your legs has you biting on your bottom lip to keep from screaming. As if he can sense your feral gaze on him, you he looks up with a devilish glint in his ocean blue eyes, which have now darkened with twinges of desire and lust, as he starts fucking you faster with his tongue.

Your mouth hangs open and you’re right on the edge when he removes his tongue.

“What the fuck?!” you cry out and he chuckles darkly.

“I shouldn’t fucking let you cum at all,” he bites as he thrusts two fingers inside of you, causing you to buck your hips forward, “but I’m gonna get this tight little pussy ready for me,” he promises again.

The intrusion of a third finger has you throwing your head back in both pleasure and pain, and you try to push his hand away.

“None of that, fucking take it! Take it and then you’re gonna take my fucking cock,” he demands gruffly, applying more pressure to your clit with his thumb.

“Ngh- too much! Curtis please!”

“Then fucking cum! What, you don’t know how? Was it really that bad with him?” he taunts with a condescending chuckle.

You shouldn’t clench around his fingers the way you do at that.

“Not such a fucking saint after all, huh? Just a hungry little cock whore. Say it,” he demands lowly.

Biting down on your lip to keep quiet, you shake your head ‘no’.

Slapping one of your tits hard, he repeats, “say it!”

“ ‘m a cock whore!” you cry out, squirting hard and coating his wrist.

That’s new.

“Jesus fuck,” he growls.

He fucks you through your high, lapping up the mess you made, while you try to come down from your high. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know how wrong all of this is, but you can’t focus on that right now. The pleasure is all consuming, and you can’t think on anything other than how much you want Curtis.

How, in some dark and twisted way, you’ve always wanted Curtis.

The sound of him unzipping his pants brings you back to reality, and you know you’re going to hate yourself in the morning. Hell, you hate yourself now. 

“Don’t ever make me fight this fucking hard for you again, you understand me?” he warns, kicking his jeans and boxers off of him and your bed.

You watch him with wide eyes and it’s as if he can read your mind.

“Don’t you dare try and fucking run from me now. You’re mine, you’ve always been mine, and you’ll always be mine.”

He takes his angry red cock in his hand, stoking it a few times, before dipping down and kissing you like you’d finally been returned to him after years of being held captive. The taste of you and whiskey mix together perfectly, intoxicating you, and you moan into his mouth, as both of your tongues fight for dominance.

“You are mine,” he broods once you two break apart as he spears himself inside of you.

“Shit!”

He lets out a strangled groan, “gonna make you feel better than you ever have before!”

He’s relentless as he fucks into you, knowing exactly what you need as you trail kisses down his neck. 

“Y/N,” he whines when you find that spot on the crook of his neck, biting down on it hard before using your tongue to soothe the pain. “Fuck! What a good girl,” he praises and you flutter around his cock. “My pretty girl likes that? Being my good fuckin girl?”

You’ve never been so full in your life and the only response you can muster is a pathetic moan, sucking even harder on his neck. 

“That’s right, baby. Mark me up...make sure they know I’m yours,” he growls, using one hand to pin your waist down, while the other pins your hands down to the bed above your head.

You don’t even care that he’s using you as his own personal rag doll, because you need it. You both need it. So many years of anger, frustration, and denial have finally come to a head, and it feels good.

It feels so fucking good.

“Oh God! Daddy!” you cry out, wrapping a leg around his waist as he finds a spot within you that you didn’t even know existed.

“Fuck, there it is!”

“Too much!”

“No it’s not, you’re gonna make a mess for me again,” he demands as his movements start to become erratic. 

The hand he’s using to pin your waist to the bed travels down between the both of you, and you let out a choked sob as he starts to massage your clit.

“So beautiful, baby. Love you so fucking much,” he grunts, and you’re not sure if he means you or your pussy.

Your mind is so full of fog that you truly don’t give a fuck.

You turn your head away as you feel the knot in your core tighten and he whines, “look at me...waited so long, let me see you, baby. C’mon...let daddy see you come apart.”

Forcing your gaze on him, there’s something equally soft in his feral blue eyes, and you know you’re done for. No matter what you feel in the morning, you’ll want this again and again.

You’ll want him again and again.

A silent scream leaves your mouth as your orgasm washes over you, the leg around his waist falling to the side as you make a mess between the both of you.

“That’s a good girl...milk my fat fuckin’ cock, baby,” he groans, resting his forehead against yours as he paints your inner walls with his love.

Well, you’ve fucking done it now. 

He peppers soft kisses from your forehead to your cheek, as he rides out both of your highs, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he finally releases your arms. When he finally stills within you, half hard, you let your arms fall to your sides and close your eyes, feeling more full and desired than ever before.

Feeling more guilt than you ever have before.

You’re almost asleep when you hear, “clean daddy off, honey. We’re just getting started.”

He chuckles when he looks down at the confused look on your face.

“I told you: we’re gonna be at this for a while.”

You’re not sure what the hell has gotten into him, and why he’s so forceful tonight, but he keeps you up for hours in positions you’ve never even dreamed of. Exhausting your body over and over again, his lips covering every inch of your body that they can, and his hands exploring every part of you. It feels like heaven, and there’s a pitiful shame that washes over you with each orgasm. You lose count of how many times he tells you he loves you, and how perfect he thinks you are for him, and soon you’re just a mindless doll ready and willing to do anything he wants. You’ll give him anything as long as he continues to lessen the embarrassment that’s come with you finally giving yourself to him.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts from behind as you lull your head back, “ride daddy’s dick just like that. Like a fucking cowgirl!”

“Ngh!”

“I know you’re tired,” he coos against your neck, his beard making you shutter as he strarts groping your breasts with both hands, “gonna fill your perfect little pussy one more time, I promise!”

The thought of you leaking with his release again has you clenching around him.

“You love being so full of me, don’t you?”

You just nod as you grip his thick thighs, digging your nails into them.

“I know, baby. Just needed daddy to show you who’s boss, didn’t you? Too ashamed to accept what I was so willing to give you,” he moans, kissing your neck as one of his hands travels between your thighs.

“DADDY!”

“So loud for me and I fucking love it! You’d never be this fuckin’ loud for him, would you?”

You lazily shake your head ‘no’.

“Didn’t deserve you...he couldn’t make you happy like I can. Like I always will,” he promises as he slaps your cunt.

That’s all it takes. You scream his name as your body spasms and you make a mess for what feels like the millionth time. He pulls you close, filling you to the brim, as your body relaxes against his.

“What a good girl,” he praises softly, his own breathing shallow as he guides your waist to ride out both of your orgasms.

You’ve never been so exhausted in your life.

You honestly have no control over your body at this point, so Curtis has to guide you off of him and onto the bed. You flinch when you feel some sort of fabric between your legs, cleaning you up.

“I know you’re sensitive, just a few more moments, baby,” he coos.

Well, he’s certainly much happier now that you’re a useless and mindless mess.

You feel the bed dip from behind you as he gets in, pulling the cover over the both of you before pulling you close to him. The fight that’s left in you isn’t enough to kill an ant. Instead, you just relax against him as you drift off into unconsciousness, hoping that all of this is just a very strong dream crafted from loneliness and desire.  

The last thing you hear before you succumb to darkness is, “I love you.”

~~

“Y/N,” a soft voice calls as a pair of hands shake your gently.

You blink a few times, coming back to reality and trying to separate your dreams from reality.

“Y/N? Curtis wants to see you in his room.”

Curtis.

All of a sudden the pain in your face and body catapult you back into reality. Shame washes over you, as well as an intense amount of guilt, and you curl into yourself. God, how could you give into him? How could you get off to some of the cruel and lewd things he said? What the fuck is wrong with you?

“Y/N? Did you hear me? Curtis-”

“No,” you respond softly, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

“He told me not to take ‘no’ for an answer,” the woman responds mournfully.

You say nothing, silently crying to yourself and wishing you were anywhere else. Wishing you could get away from your one true forbidden desire.

“Y/N, please,” the woman begs.

It’s not lost on you that she’ll more than likely have hell to pay, but you can’t face him. The more memories come flooding back, the more you want to the train to swallow you whole. To add insult to injury, arousal pools between your legs as desire takes over your body. What the hell came over the both of you last night, and why did you let it win? There was a time that you would’ve fought till the last breath in your body to keep Curtis off of you, but last night, you barely put up that much of a fight. You didn’t want to.

You hear your drawers open and what you assume are clothes landing on your bed, and you just pull the cover over your head. He got what he wanted out of you, so why can’t he leave you alone? What else could he want from you?

‘I love you.’

There’s no possible way he could’ve meant that. He was drunk. He treats every other woman on this train like his own personal pleasure toy, so what makes you any different? So special?

“What did I tell you last night about making me fight for you?”Curtis sighs as he walks into your room, closing the door shut behind him.

You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t even heard the woman leave.

  When you say nothing, he pulls the cover from you, “come on, Y/N. Don’t make me get forceful.”

You just pull your legs tighter to yourself and cry harder.

“What?”

“Please...just go away.”

“Y/N-” “You did it on purpose, Curtis. He loved you and you just...”

“You didn’t seem to mind that confession so much last night.”

“Which makes me just as awful as you if not worse,” you sob, once again realizing just how terrible you are. 

Edgar loved you unconditionally and you let the man responsible for his death fuck you like a beast, willingly giving him orgasm after orgasm.

“Honey,” Curtis tries to reason, going to touch your arm, but you pull away.

It’s insane how you can long for and hate someone’s touch so much at the same time.

Letting out another frustrated sigh, he pulls the cover back over your body and steps away, “fine.”

You can hear the pain in his voice, but he should feel like garbage. You both should. The sliding door to your room opens and closes again, and you’re finally on your own again. As you continue to cry, you if you’ll ever know peace again. If you aren’t, how long will it take you to allow yourself the comfort of Curtis?

Curtis’ P.O.V.

What the fuck is wrong with me? It’s not the first time I’ve gotten drunk and tormented you, but to attack you like that? Confess the truth in such a condescending way? Of course you want nothing to do with me now that the fog has cleared. Yes, what I did was fucked up, but I’ve been right about you since day one.

You wanted me all along.

It’s not like I didn’t care for Edgar, and he deserved more from me, but he didn’t deserve you. Watching him with you was like a knife to the chest every day. Hearing your moans and whimpers every night that he was inside you? Those were mine. They were for me. That’s why you always kept your eyes focused on me. You knew it just as well as I did. Maybe you’re the real monster in all of this, because you used him just as much as I envied him. 

You weren’t happy, you were never going to leave him, so I took charge. I didn’t expect for any of it to work out like it did, but it did nonetheless. I figured if I gave you enough time and space, you’d come to me, but my patience could only last so long. Venting to Nam night after night only helped so much. 

Two fucking years.

Two years of me watching you, two years of me making every other man on board afraid to get close to you, two years of me being a lesser version of myself...two years and you still never cracked. I have a fucking train to take care of, I couldn’t keep spending all of my time and energy just trying make you jealous enough to give him.

I was all set to let it go and let you do whatever the hell you wanted, until I walked past your train cart yesterday morning.

“Fuck Curtis...fuck me just like that,” you whimpered so softly, I thought I imagined it.

Looking into your room made me cum instantly. You were completely naked, eyes closed, head lulled back, and riding your pillow. You’d never looked so fucking hot before, and that was my name leaving your mouth. Not Edgar’s, mine. I no longer needed you to fucking say you were mine, but you’d just confirmed it.

“Gonna cum so soon, daddy! Fuck!”

I couldn’t get it out of my mind, and my frustration wouldn’t leave my body. Why the hell were you fighting something you so desperately wanted? 

Because you’re not a monster at all.

Even without my confession, you’d always known the truth. I could’ve saved Edgar, but I didn’t. I made a million excuses as to why I couldn’t, and everyone believed them. Everyone except you. Of course you wouldn’t allow yourself to be with me. Not without force. So, after I finished up everything I needed to take care, I got drunk. I had planned on being level headed, but you came in with that fucking attitude, and I fucking lost it.

How the hell were you annoyed with me? I made sure you had the best life, and you were still ungrateful. Once again, I could’ve saved Edgar, but you wouldn’t have left him. You would’ve married him and had his fucking his kids, and what right did he have to you? What right do any of the guys on this hell hole have to you? None of them will ever love you like I do, they’re not gonna satisfy you like I do, and they’re never gonna care for you like I do.

You just needed to be shown, so I decided that I was done waiting. I knew you’d put up a fight, but I didn’t expect it to get me so worked up. I didn’t mean to hit you so hard, but you were being difficult. Squeezing the stitches in my arm? You knew better than that. It wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped, but when you finally surrendered, it was more than worth it. You were a fucking dream, better than anything I’d ever had or imagined.

How could I feel bad about Edgar when I finally had you right where I wanted you? Where I’d always wanted you. I didn’t have to say all of things I did, but we both knew they were true. You’d always wanted me, he’d never truly satisfied you, and you’d always wanted me. Whatever your reasons were for choosing him over me didn’t matter anymore, because you finally admitted everything. Yeah, it bothered me that you never said ‘I love you’ back, but I also know I can’t have everything I want at once. I know you do, and when you’re ready, you’ll admit that too. 

“She’s not here,” Nam says softly, pulling me out of my thoughts as he enters.

“No, she’s back to hating me,” I mutter with an eye roll. “I did everything wrong.”

“Did you explain?”

“Nope, I did the exact opposite. I took what I wanted and expected her to fall in line.”

He lets out an irritated sigh as he runs a hand through his hair, “Curtis.”

“Yeah, I fucking know, alright?”

“What now?”

“I’ll go back and see her tonight. I’ll talk to her. She loves me, she just needs some encouragement to see it. To admit it.”

“Be gentle, Curtis. You get angry and you don’t think.”

He’s not wrong.

“Did you hurt her?”

“We both hurt each other, but it’s not like she didn’t like it.”

“Is that what happened to your arm?” he asks, pointing to the bruise.

I scoff with a nod, “yeah, little devil.”

“She’s tough, I’ll give her that,” he laughs, taking Kronole out of his pocket.

“Will you stop with that shit?!”

“You beat women, I get high,” he shrugs.

“I don’t beat women,” I quickly counter, trying to keep a lid on my anger.

I really didn’t mean to hit you so fucking hard. Fuck.

He just rolls his eyes, “Should I send Yona to look after her?”

“No, we have work to do and we need Yona and her ability. I’ll send one of the girls to check on her and give her food.”

I know I should be the one to do it but with how you were this morning, I know we’re basically right back where we started.

“Curtis, should I send for Y/N again?” Sansa asks, poking her head in, disdain dripping into her words.

I can see the pain in her eyes, but I can’t bring myself to feel bad. She may be a regular, but she always knew she wasn’t permanent. All of them know. 

“I’ll see to her later. Make sure no one comes in except Yona,” I instruct dismissively.

“Yes sir.”

Yeah, I’m an asshole, but I’m an asshole who’s in love with and made better by you. The sooner you see that, the sooner things will be as they should. In time, you’ll see.

In time, you’ll understand.

~~

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Here, take mine,” a deep soft voice told you.

You looked over to your right to see that Curtis had taken a seat next to you, and he was holding out his protein block.

You shook your head and pushed it away, “oh no, it’s perfectly fine-”

“You’re hungry-”

“What will you eat?”

“I don’t like the way they taste,” he shrugged.

You laughed to yourself, “no one likes the way they taste.”

“Won’t haunt you like the taste of human flesh though.”

He had a point there.

“Go on, take it,” he offered again.

“You have to eat something. We’re all barely hanging on as it is.”

“Y/N-”

You offered him a half smile, “we can split it.”

He contemplated your offer before he nodded, “deal.”

You miss that Curtis. The one who showed remorse for his actions, cared about those around him, and was actually trying to help everyone and not just himself. Ever since Gilliam took him under his wing, there was an heir of arrogance to him, and it made you want him that much less. It got worse after Edgar got killed and Gilliam soon followed.

God, how could you still fuck him after his confession? If anything, that should’ve made you fight harder. Instead, in a sick way, it turned you on even more because it showed you just how much he wanted you. How much he’d do to make sure you’d always be his and his alone. 

Maybe being on the train for so damn long that it’s fucked with you more than you thought, or maybe you’re just that awful.

The servers have been trying to feed you all day, but the only thing you’ve consumed is alcohol. It’s the only thing that’ll keep demons and thoughts of self-hatred at bay. Plus, for as much as you shouldn’t, you do feel bad for Curtis. The man told you he loves you a handful of times last night, brought you to euphoric bliss time and time again, and you let him hold you close last night, just so you could ice him out today.

As much as you don’t want to believe that the mad man loves you, somewhere deep down inside, you know it’s true. A man doesn’t let the closest person he has to a best friend die over someone he doesn’t love. Yes, you knew Edgar could get on his nerves sometimes, but never enough for Curtis ever want something truly awful to happen to him. It’s not like you ever meant for things to become a sick and twisted games, but they had and the end result was the sweetest man you’d ever known getting killed.

All of this was your fault.

“You haven’t eaten today,” a soft voice rings out, stepping into your room.

“Please go, Curtis. You got what you wanted. Just go, I’m sure Sansa and the others will be happy to keep you company tonight.”

He sits down in front of you and takes your face in his hands, “I don’t love Sansa and the others.”

“Curtis-”

“Why have you been crying all day?”

You’re more than sure the look on your face screams, ‘really?’.

“It’s not like it was something you didn’t already know-”

“Stop being so fucking callous about it!”

“Why? I’d do it again, honey. I have no problem admitting that. If I had to do it all over again, I would without hesitation.”

“What the fuck is the matter with you?!”

“I love you, Y/N. I think I’ve made that pretty clear for some time now, and I’m not going to watch you be with some other man. I don’t give a fuck who that man is.”

“You can literally have whoever else you want-”

You yelp when he effortlessly picks you up and pulls you into his lap.

“The world could be the way it’s supposed to be and I still wouldn’t want anyone else. You were meant for me and I was meant for you. If people have to die for you to understand that, then so be it. I will never love anyone the way I love you, so stop thinking that this is just some fling to me,” he warns, his gaze on you tense and serious.

His words should make you afraid of him but, instead, they make you want him more than you did the night before.

“You don’t-”

“Who else do you want me to make disappear, hmm? How do I make you believe me?”

“Curtis...stop.”

“I love you.”

“That’s not love-”

“Why should I go about this the normal way? We’ve all had to fight to stay here, and I’m willing to fight for you. I will always fight for you because you’re mine, just like I’m yours. I love you.”

For now, you’ll just blame the alcohol as you lean in and kiss him softly. Just like the night before, he runs one of his hands through your hair and grips it tight as he deepens the kiss, his other arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you as close as possible.

He broods against your lips once you two break apart, “that’s right, baby. You’ll always be mine.”

“This isn’t right-” “Who gives a fuck about right and wrong when it feels this fucking good?”

“Curtis...”

“Just give into me,” he pleads before kissing you again, “give into me because you love me just as much as I love you.”

Once again, the fight leaves your body and you’re just giving into what you want. You kiss him deeply as your legs wrap around his waist, grinding against him. 

“That’s it honey,” he breathes with a moan, the tip of his nose ghosting over the outline of your cheek. “I won’t take anything you don’t wanna give me. Just like last night.”

You know good and damn well he’s saying that because last night he did force himself on you, but you both knew you were desperate for it. You both know you’ve been desperate for him for a while. It’s evident that he wants you to acknowledge that, but he’s gonna need to work a little harder for that. 

“If you truly love me, then show me,” you sigh as he bites and sucks on your neck. “Show me how much you need me to be yours.”

You must have awakened something feral in him because, instantly, he’s picking you up and standing up with almost no effort at all, and carrying you out of your room, quickly make his way towards his. Part of you wants to protest, because you’ve seen what he’s done with other women in his bed, but another part of you is desperate for it because it is his bed. Anyone else who was on it before you won’t ever matter again, because you’re all he needs.

He growls as he tosses you onto his bed, “take your fucking shirt off before I rip it off.”

You honestly don’t need much prompting. Between the amount of alcohol coursing through you, and the desire that you’ve been suppressing for years, you’re once again willing and ready to do anything that he wants. You whimper when he pulls his off and tosses it to the side, quickly getting to work on undoing his pants.

Yeah, you’re still sore from yesterday, but the pleasure always outweighs. You’ll take aspirin after.

“I thought I already fucking showed you,” he husks roughly, fitting your legs around his waist once on the bed and on his haunches. “I didn’t get my point across last night?”

You bite your lip and shake your head no, holding his gaze as you wrap your arms around him. 

He smirks as that devilish glint comes back to his eyes, “let me be firmer this time,” forcing you down on his cock.

“AH SHIT!”

He keeps a firm hold on your waist as he starts bouncing you up and down on his cock, “you’re mine, Y/N. Always have been and you always will be!”

You cry out as you lull your head back, “oh fuck, daddy!”

“Eyes on me, baby. Gonna make sure it sinks in this time,” he chuckles darkly.

Honestly, all you can do is hold on to him, and he doesn’t even make that easy. He spits on your cunt a few times before easily wrapping one arm behind your waist to keep you in place, and shamelessly slapping your clit with the other hand.

“Please....please!”

His condescending chuckle only makes you clench around him, “fucking pathetic.”

He dips down, the tip of his tongue lightly licking between your breasts and moaning as he licks up the sweat, before latching his mouth onto your right nipple and sucking on it as if it’s his favorite lollipop to exist.

You whimper, feeling safe in his strong hold, as you run a hand through his buzzed hair, “feels so good, daddy! The way you love me feels so good!”

Releasing your nipple with a ‘pop’, he looks up with brooding dark eyes, “and no one else will ever make it feel this good,” he promises.

Without warning, he starts massaging your clit with more pressure than you’re prepared for, and you’re screaming out his name as you make a mess between the both of you.

“So messy and all mine,” he praises, his voice strained as continues to fuck up into you. “Always been all mine, haven’t you?”

Once again, you’ve been turned into a mindlessly babbling toy.

“No answer?” he taunts, his breathing as he stops all together, laughing sadistically at your pathetic whimper. “Guess daddy still hasn’t made his point clear.”

He drops you down onto the bed, flips you over with ease, fixes your knees so your ass is propped in the air, before thrusting himself inside of you again.

“Aht!”

“You’ve always been mine, haven’t you?” he growls, fucking into hard and fast.

You just whimper into his pillow as claw at his bed, but he isn’t having that. Wrapping one arm around your waist and snaking it up between your breasts, he grips your throat while the other hand grips your hair tight, and he pulls you right.

“Use your fucking words,” he demands gruffly, fucking into you harder, “you’ve always been mine?”

“Y-yes!”

“Yes who?”

“Y-yes...y-y-yes daddy!”

“Always gonna be mine?”

“A-an-anything you w-want!”

He growls into your neck as you feel him spill into you, “fuck baby!”

Once again, there’s nothing going through your mind but fog and your body is exhausted. If he wants more from you, you’ll give it to him, but you can honestly fall asleep in his hold right now. He loosens his grip on your neck, and you take a deep breath, not even realizing how tight he’d been holding onto you. Lazily fucking you both through your high, he presses small, wet, open mouthed kisses along your neck.

His breath comes heavy and he sounds just as tired as you feel, “get the message this time?”

You nod as weakly attempt to fight off sleep, “mhm, you love me.”

The next question comes with a hint of fear, “do you believe me?”

“Mhm, yes.”

“Do you love me?”

The answer comes effortlessly, “yes Curtis.”

He’s gentle with you as he pulls out, growling as he watches the mix of your juices run down your thighs, and he lays you down. Once again, you wince when some fabric gently wipes over your extremely raw and sensitive flesh, and he gently hushes you. This time, when he gets in bed with you, you’re pulling him close and resting your head on his chest.

You’re too tired to fight it.

“I love you,” you repeat before effortlessly falling asleep.

~~

Once again, when you make up, you need a moment to adjust to your surroundings. The soreness is quicker to make your acquaintance this time, and you remember that you’re in Curtis’ room.

The very front of the train.

That’s when you realize you’re alone in his bed, and you’re slow to sit up and look around.

“I’m here,” he calls softly.

You look to the side and see him sitting across the room, sweatpants on only, hunched over, and resting his head on his hands.

“You should lay back down, I’m sure you’re sore.”

You keep your eyes on him as you slowly lay back down, “what’s wrong?”

He’s not wrong about you being sore. 

“Nothing-”

Scoffing as you prop yourself up on your elbow and rest your head on your hand, “you’re gonna start lying to me after the last two days we’ve spent together?” and he laughs softly.

“It doesn’t matter right now-”

“Curtis, what’s wrong?”

There’s a softness to his features, and it’s a softness you haven’t seen in a long time.

“I love you.”

You look down and play with the hem of the bed sheet.

“That’s the problem right there.”

“Curtis-” He sighs as he sits up, “I’m not complaining.”

“It’s not so easy for me, okay?”

“It was last night when you were drunk, and I fucking knew better. I knew better, but my emotions...” “There’s a lot that I have to come to terms with, and I’ve only had two days to do it.”

“Well, do you?” “Curtis-”

“It’s a simple yes or no question-”

“It’s not simple! I was with Edgar, and no matter how I may or may not have always felt about you, I did love him and you let him get killed. No, I’m not innocent in all of this, but he loved and trusted him and you betrayed him.”

“That was different-” “How? How am I supposed to know you won’t ever do something like that to me?”

“Because this is different! This isn’t even remotely close...since I laid eyes on you, I knew that you were meant for me, and I for you. I may have been 17, but I’d never been so sure of anything in my life. I still haven’t been,” he states, slightly hurt that you would even make a claim like that. “I know what I did was fucked up, that’s not lost on either of us, and I’ve done my best to show and prove to you that I’m sorry, because it wasn’t right. Edgar didn’t know, but you did. You knew and you felt the same for me.”

“Curtis-”

“Well you did, you can deny it all you want, but we both know it’s true.”

“It doesn’t matter-” “Well, why you’d pick him?”

You scowl and lay on your back, “you don’t want the honest answer to that question.” “I can handle it.” “Lets not-”

“Just tell me!’

“I really don’t think I need to, Curtis! There’s something wrong with you! Something in you is unhinged and it shows!” you snap, sitting up and facing him.

He sits back and lets out a heavy sigh, and it breaks your heart, but he’s the one who wants to know so bad. 

When he says nothing, you continue, “there’s something that flips a switch in you, and this darkness comes over you. You’re moody, argumentative, and violent. Anything can set it off and, while I get it to an extent, enough shit had happened and I didn’t want to deal with it. You would be so soft with me at times, but you could easily lose your temper with anyone else...with the exception of Gilliam. Edgar was kind, funny, and sweet. No, it wasn’t ideal, but I felt safe with him and I didn’t have to worry about him losing his shit on me. So yes, I had feelings for you, but I chose him. I know you took him under your wing out of guilt, but you were also jealous. The more he trusted you, the more you took advantage of that. It made me resent him. Then, when he went off with you for the uprising, I knew he wasn’t coming back. You wouldn’t let him.”

You can see the anger in his eyes, but he knows that he can’t call you a liar. Everything you’re saying is true and he’s not about to try and make a fool out of you.

“I did it for you,” he responds after a moment. “You don’t have to believe it, and I know you didn’t see it, but I did it for you. I’ve always wanted to keep you safe, take care of you, and have you by my side. Everything I’ve done has been for you, and while some of it has been less than humane, I’d do it again if it meant you could be happy. If it means you can have a better life, I’ll do it, and I don’t care who I have to hurt.”

“Curtis-”

“I don’t care how crazy any of it sounds, because you have to be crazy to survive in this world. I’d do anything to give you a better life and see you happy. I love you, Y/N,” he tells you softly and sincerely.

You shouldn’t feel an overwhelming amount or love and joy for him, but that doesn’t stop it from washing over you. Is there a shrink on this fucking train, because you both need your fucking heads examined.

“I’ll ask you again, do you love me?”

Slipping out before you have a chance to stop it, “yes. Yes Curtis, I love you.”

Your heart swells at the small smile that comes to his face, as he finally gets up and makes his way back to the bed, and gets in next to you. You ignore the shameful amount of guilt that overcomes you, because what happened in the past can’t be changed. All that counts is right now and the future you and Curtis will create together. 

You rest your head on his chest and make little circles it, “how are you so sure, Curtis?”

“So sure of what?” he asks, stroking your shoulder and finally relaxing.

“That you love me. How do you know it’s not just an overwhelming sense of lust?”

He laughs to himself and kisses the top of your head, “because when all the fog in my mind settles, there’s still a burning desire for you in my heart. A burning desire to protect you, make you happy, hear your voice, see you smile, and to love you until there’s no breath left in my body. When the fog clears, there’s always a desire to love you with everything I have in me.”

Pressing a soft kiss to his chest, you look up at him, “I’m sorry it took me so long to finally get here.”

“You don’t have to say you’re sorry, just promise to never leave.”

“I promise.”

“I love you, honey.”

“I love you, Curtis.” 

[flutishly]

The lull before the storm - revisiting the days before Hero's birthday, a decade later

Note: This post contains spoilers for Nothing Much to Do.

I'll admit, I haven't been keeping up with the NMTDaily in recent weeks. I'll watch the videos a couple weeks late, in chunks. It feels entirely unlike how I watched NMTD when it was originally released (obsessively, as the episodes came out; I never used subscriptions, so I'd check the channels directly pretty much every day), but entirely reflective of where my life is today, a decade later.

I'll be away this weekend, leading into the 10-year anniversary of Hero's 16th birthday and the radio silence that followed. I'll probably write more about the actual videos when the time comes (hey, remember when I spent hours micro-analyzing a tiny video only for the full-length scene to emerge within that same day? I should be embarrassed by that than I am), but for now I find myself thinking about how the tension ramps up and how the story of Much Ado About Nothing and NMTD's interpretation feels different in 2024 than it did in 2014.

There's a lot that at the time I feel I was less forgiving of, interestingly. Maybe it's because I'm older, but I find myself feeling sorrier for the boys this time around. Claudio's anxiety and self-consciousness feels more... forward. Pedro's need to people-please and "lead". Ben's intense need to be liked and appreciated. Ironically, even as their behavior seems even more "inappropriate" today, I can't help but feel that there's something about it that I better understand today.

Hero herself somehow feels more mature. There's something about watching with the retrospect of a decade that makes the coming punch hurt all the more. It's been long enough since my last rewatch that I'd forgotten so many smaller details, like the way the girls have their sleepover or the fact that Hero has her own charming relationship with the camera independently of Beatrice. (I'm not sure why I'd forgotten these moments specifically, but it's interesting! I suppose it has something to do with the fact that I always clicked with Bea more as a character, but in this rewatch I feel like I'm finally seeing the version of Hero that many of my friends from the NMTD era always saw.)

Hero seems more mature and Bea seems more childish. Ten years ago, Bea was just a few years younger than me; she was immature, but not so different from where I was in life. Now, both Bea and Hero feel like teenagers and I'm very much not a young adult anymore. I look at both of them and think how fragile they are, how much they're taking on themselves at such a young age (independence is wonderful, but do they have the love and support of a good adult mentor?). I think of Bea's discomfort talking about Ben and her fear of being hurt. I think of Hero's open love and trust. I think of how both will soon be heartbroken by the same event, in very different ways.

Hero's birthday is one of those plot points in the world of literary webseries. It's iconic for a reason. And I know that as things "unfold" this weekend (and are only revealed next week), I'm watching it from a very different place than a decade ago and with a completely different mindset. But I suspect that the sadness and anger I felt then will not be completely obliterated. I suspect that I'll still have a moment of anguish for Hero, for Bea, for shattered dreams and the end of innocence.

----

One final aside: I truly love the writing on NMTD. Time and again, I'm impressed by just how richly the characters are drawn, by what a beautiful job The Candlewasters did in translating a classic text and making it feel so very real. I feel so lucky to have experienced this show as it was released in 2014 and yet again lucky to watch it now.

[captainsophiestark]

Ragtag

Grant Ward x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Marvel

Day 1 Prompt: "It's not too late, let's go."

Summary: The scene with FitzSimmons and Garrett on the Bus at the end of Season 1 if, instead of FitzSimmons, Grant had found and captured his long-time best friend, partner, and girlfriend.

Word Count: 4,158

Category: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of abuse. No depictions of it, but the mention/realization that a character has been abused in the past, while staring at/standing in the same hallway as the abuser.

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

This had to be a nightmare.

With each step I took, one foot in front of the other, I willed myself to wake up, to realize everything had just been a bad dream. And with each step, I was forced closer to the realization that my situation was heartbreakingly, terrifyingly real.

The past week, I'd had a line of similar thoughts, hoping and praying that the fall of SHIELD and the betrayal of my best friend and boyfriend, Grant Ward, had been some insane fever dream. That I'd wake up in the med pod on the Bus, the team happy to see me awake, and that I'd realize everything had been some horrible concoction of my imagination instead. But just like now, I'd been forced to come to terms with the fact that I was wide awake.

First, I thought the nightmare was Hydra's infiltration. Then it became Garrett, Grant's mentor and basically surrogate father, being a traitor. Then it was discovering Grant was a traitor. Now, it had reached a whole new level, as Grant frog-marched me toward the Bus that he and Garrett had taken over, my hands tied behind my back and his gun forcing me to keep moving forward.

"Grant... what are you doing?" I breathed, trying to keep the tears out of my voice as we neared the ramp of the plane. Garrett had taken things over in the name of Hydra, and he clearly had some hold over my boyfriend. Every step towards that ramp lowered my odds of making it through this.

"We can't have SHIELD following us, that's all," he said. He kept his voice level, trying to convince me he was being reasonable, like I'd heard him do with our enemies on missions countless times before. I shook my head.

"You are SHIELD, Grant," I said. "Please, please remember that."

His grip tightened slightly on my forearm as he led me to the base of the ramp, a comforting squeeze more than anything threatening. A week ago, it would've put me at ease.

"I'm not the man you think I am," he muttered. I sighed heavily through my nose, a little bit of irritation finally flaring up.

"I know you better than anybody else on earth, apparently including you," I huffed. Grant didn't respond.

As soon as we entered the garage bay, where Lola used to sit, Grant and I were flanked by three other agents, who followed us up the stairs. Grant moved ahead, leading me through the physically wrecked and shattered hallways of the plane we'd spent a few, blissful months calling home, and my heart squeezed tight in my chest. How had everything gone so wrong?

"Here she is, sir," he said, and a second later I saw John Garrett's stupid, shitty face staring back at me. I narrowed my eyes and scowled, unable to contain my hate and anger enough to keep a neutral expression.

"What's the matter?" he asked, his tone light and teasing in a way that made my blood boil. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Maybe I've just got nothing to say to you," I replied. He had the nerve to laugh.

"Well, that's fine then. I don't know that I have much to say to you either, especially now that you're here. Thanks to Ward, you won't be much of a problem for me anymore."

Over Garrett's shoulder, I saw Grant's expression flicker and shutter. Like a kicked dog, caught between someone he loved and someone who scared him. An anger I'd only ever felt when our enemies threatened Grant welled up in my chest.

In my entire, almost fifteen-year career at SHIELD, I had managed to get through it without killing anyone. Ever. Even before I had the Icer to knock enemies out instead of shooting them the old-fashioned way, I'd made a point of using non-lethal force. It mattered to me; it felt important to find a way to do my job without killing people in the process.

Grant had never had the same reservations. It didn't bother me, and although we'd talked about it once or twice, I'd never expected him to take up my same system when we'd been partnered on missions, when we'd become good friends, or when we'd started dating. Time and again, he'd gone to the mat for me, tearing apart anyone that existed as a threat to me with a force I'd never have imagined using.

For the first time in our lives, in our decade and a half of friendship, the tables had turned.

Thanks to the rest of Coulson's team, I knew John Garrett had significant organ failure. A Cybertek device in his chest was the only thing still keeping him alive. He'd abused Grant for longer than I'd known him, and for the first time, I could see clearly how it affected Grant, in real time. For both our sakes, I couldn't let this go on any longer. I didn't know if it would kill him, and I still hoped it wouldn't, but for the first time I didn't care enough to make sure it wouldn't. I needed to get away from Garrett, and more importantly, I needed to get Grant away from Garrett. Even if it was for just a few minutes.

The Bus's engines whirled outside, and I felt us lift off the ground. An added complication, for sure, but not enough to change the plan I'd just formed in my head. I took a deep breath in and out, steadying my heartbeat and readying myself for the action ahead, like Grant had taught me years and years ago. Then, I jumped as high as I could, bringing my handcuffed hands under my feet and around to the front of my body as I did. Before anybody could register my movement, I darted forward and struck Garrett in the chest as hard as I could, putting all my weight and momentum behind both of my hands.

Garrett went down like a sack of bricks. He doubled over, gripping his middle as he groaned. I brought my knee up and hit him again before anybody could stop me, and then I took off running through the familiar passages of the jet that I used to call home.

"Garrett!" I heard Grant cry, distress in his voice that sent a pang running through my chest. I ducked around a corner at the sound of thundering footsteps behind me, and soon the agents that'd followed Grant and I from the minute we set foot on the Bus came rushing into the small common area in front of all our bunks, one room over from Garrett and Grant.

I heard shouting from the other room, and Grant's voice faded as he told Garrett to wait just a second. I tried to keep a piece of my attention focused on that while I engaged the three agents who'd decided to chase me. Even with my hands tied, they weren't much of a match for me.

I wrapped my arms around the neck of the one who'd come in last, using him as a human shield against his friends as I held him in the sleeper hold.

One by one, I worked through my three assailants, until they were each unconscious on the ground. As soon as the last one was down, I paused to tune back in to the goings-on in the other room, and heard Grant's voice as he assured Garrett that he would live. Apparently Cybertek was preparing to treat him in Miami.

I made the quick decision that I had enough time to make sure these three wouldn't continue to be a problem, so I dragged them into my old bunk (right next to Grant's) and then wedged a loose piece of the dining table's structure into the door so it couldn't open again. It likely wouldn't hold them for very long, but it was better than nothing. I took a few extra seconds to wrestle out of my handcuffs, my mind working as I did.

With Garrett and his three goons incapacitated, I had decent hope of getting Grant alone. I heard Raina, an inhuman we'd been struggling with, promising to stay in the room with Garrett and keep him safe. And then, I heard Garrett's voice hissing at Grant, barely above an ugly whisper.

"I need you to put her down."

I straightened, hands on my hips as my handcuffs finally dropped from my wrists, and frowned. There was no mistaking what he meant, but I couldn't imagine he actually thought he'd get very far ordering Grant to kill me.

"What?" Grant's voice, barely louder than Garrett's. I shifted a little closer to the doorway to hear better. "No. There's plenty of time. I won't leave you."

"And I'm telling you to cross her off for me. It's not a weakness, is it?"

The silence seemed to stretch for years. Then, finally, Grant's voice:

"No."

I turned on my heel and ran.

The nightmare continued, apparently, as the man who'd saved my life more times than I could count anymore had apparently just agreed to be my murderer. I couldn't believe he'd actually go through with it, but I also couldn't believe he'd entertain Garrett to this point. I couldn't take any risks, not now.

I slid down the ladder between the sleeping compartment and the cockpit, landing in the maze of pods in the hull just as I heard heavy footsteps overhead. My heart started racing in my chest, a fear like I'd never felt in all my near-death experiences at SHIELD gripping my chest.

Grant wouldn't actually kill me, would he?

I darted between the pods, and just like in a horror movie, I heard Grant's voice call out my name from behind me. I sped up, finally ducking into one of the pods and locking it behind me as I heard his footsteps closing in. My hand slammed on the locking device and it turned from green to red just in time. A second later, Grant appeared before me, his hand on the glass separating us.

"Open the door," he said, his eyes locked on mine. I could only see one of his hands, and my heart raced in my chest as I realized the other was likely level with his hip. I took an involuntary step backward.

"Grant... you're scaring me," I breathed, tears at last rising to the surface and threatening to fall. I'd fought them back once, but this time, I didn't think I'd be able to.

"Y/N, just open the door."

"No. I heard what you said, I heard what Garrett said. You... you wouldn't actually kill me. Would you?"

He grimaced, his jaw setting in the expression I recognized as him dealing with something he DID NOT want to deal with. My heart broke a little more in my chest.

"Just open the door."

"No! Grant, are you kidding me?" The tears were coming now, streaming down my cheeks, and I stepped towards Grant again, pressing up against the glass to get as close to him as possible. "I love you! You're my best friend, you're my partner! You're supposed to have my back through anything! I... I'd started daydreaming about marrying you! About the two of us, having the SHIELD careers recruits would be hearing about for the rest of time, before finally retiring somewhere nice together. Every time I thought about my future, Grant, you were in it... and now I might not have a future because of you? Are you kidding me?"

His expression flickered, and he couldn't keep some sadness and regret off his face when he looked at me through the glass this time. The tiniest spark of hope fluttered in my chest. If he felt bad, maybe I could still talk him off the ledge. Maybe I didn't have to lose the love of my life.

"I'm sorry. I tried to tell you... I'm a bad man. I'm not the man you thought you fell in love with."

"Bullshit!" I cried, slamming my fist into the glass in front of me. Grant jumped a little, surprise registering on his face. "You are exactly who I think you are. I know you, Grant, I've spent the last fifteen years of my life with you. Garrett may think he knows you, but he's wrong. He knows who he wants you to be. But I know who you actually are."

"You don't-"

"The sugary, caramely coffee drinks you secretly love but refuse to let anybody else but me know you drink?" I said, interrupting him with a hand on my hip, my eyes locked on his. "How invested you got in The Circle when I made you watch it on Netflix? All the time we spent planning what our strategy would be if we ever went on the show together?"

He grimaced, but I didn't give him a second to respond.

"The face mask you did with me that you loved, and all the stupid pictures we took together with the masks on? Your aggressive hatred of the Patriots even though you're from Massachusetts? The fact that you sleep best with a sleep mask, and that you have to take your socks off right before you get under the covers? Not a moment before, and definitely not after? All of that shared history, all of those things we've shared and that I've gotten to see, and you think I don't know you?"

Grant just stared at me, looking at a loss for words. I let mine hang in the air for a minute, then continued.

"I highly doubt John Garrett could list even one of those things. And those little things that you do every day, that you can't fake? That's you Grant. I know you. I know you've saved me more times than I can even count, from the demons in the real world and the ones inside my own head. So I get that Garrett's got you believing you're some kind of secret evil supervillain, but I know enough to know how ridiculous that is. You're the best man I've ever met, Grant. Please, believe me over that piece of shit upstairs that never cared enough to know the real you."

Grant still didn't speak for a few long moments, but this time, I just let the silence hang. I held his gaze, the tears having finally stopped. I didn't wipe away the remnants as they slowly dried on my face. Finally, Grant sighed, breaking eye contact to look down at the ground before returning his stare to me.

"And how exactly do you see this going?" he asked, his voice low. He'd leaned in a little, like we were co-conspirators, and I swear I felt a weight lift off my chest. The glimmer of hope had turned into a full light. "What do you expect to happen next, after all this? Don't tell me you still see a happy ending, with us retiring after full careers at SHIELD."

I sighed through my nose and rolled my eyes up to the ceiling, before fixing Grant with a look. He raised his eyebrows, and I had to fight back a laugh, mostly at the relief for that small moment of our relationship back to normal.

"Well, no, I don't think that's in the cards anymore," I deadpanned. "But the only important part of my vision of the future has been you, Grant. I don't care if we get mentioned in SHIELD classes years from now or if we're labeled as failures, examples of what not to do. All that matters to me is you."

He stared at me for a few more long, silent moments. For most people, he would've been unreadable, but I recognized the slightly-wider eyes, the deer-in-headlights look he got whenever I admitted big feelings that he didn't expect me to share. It was a good sign, and when he swallowed and cleared his throat, his expression had all of the grim defeat gone, replaced instead by a shaky hope.

"So what are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting we run," I said simply. "It's not too late, let's go. Let's ditch it all, and go somewhere we can start a new life together. Screw Garrett, screw SHIELD, screw Hydra. All that matters is you and me."

Grant stared at me like he didn't believe I was real. Slowly, swallowing heavy again, he nodded. I raised my eyebrows and smiled.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he finally managed, nodding again, more sure this time. "Yeah, let's do that. You're... you're all that matters to me, too."

My small smile broke into a full-on grin, and at last, I hit the lock on the door. I slid it open the moment the lock flashed green, darting forward to close the space between me and Grant and wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug. I buried my face in his chest, and after a moment, he wrapped his arms around me in return.

"Well. I guess she was a weakness."

Grant and I's heads snapped up in unison to find John Garrett standing just down the hallway from us. I narrowed my eyes. Of course he'd picked this moment to show up.

Grant stiffened under my arms, and I could feel the stress radiating off of him. Garrett took a small step towards us, but I didn't dare move, lest Grant feel anymore trapped than he already did. Besides, holding him tight in a hug we'd shared during and after a thousand traumatic experiences felt like the best leg up on Garrett I could get.

"Agent Ward, I didn't train you to be a pushover. I trained you to be a man who could go in and do the job that needed to be done," said Garrett. "It's not too late. You don't want to disappoint me, son."

At the same time Garrett's words washed over Grant, he took another step closer, and his hand flexed at his side. Grant flinched under me, and I saw red.

In almost fifteen years, Grant had never flinched. Not like this. When something came flying at his face? Sure. When an especially good jump scare happened in a horror movie and he tried to hide how badly it had scared him? Always. But when someone stood apart from us, subtly threatening him? Never. Not once.

Garrett had clearly manipulated him, badly. I knew that. Throughout the course of this interaction, I'd assumed Garrett had crossed the line into mental abuse, too. But now, I realized it had gone even further. To mental and physical abuse. Garrett had hit Grant enough after Grant "failed" him, that my boyfriend, who'd stared down some of the scariest people in the world without fear, stood next to me trembling, caught between a rock and a hard place.

"Think things through here, Ward," said Garrett, continuing his slow walk towards us. "Either you kill her, or I do. Weaknesses are unacceptable, especially now that we've come out of the shadows. A happy ending doesn't exist to this love story that came from your lies at SHIELD. So don't be stupid, son. Don't make this worse on yourself than it has to be-"

My hand moved before my brain actually registered what I was doing. I grabbed the gun out of the holster at Grant's waist, the one I thought he might've decided to use on me only about ten minutes ago, and I levelled it at Garrett. I was aware enough to realize this wasn't an Icer; this had the ability to do lethal damage. And for the first time ever, I decided I didn't care. I shot John Garrett in the chest, twice. He dropped to his knees, the life quickly fading out of him, leaving a crumpled heap on the floor.

The gun fell out of my hand and clattered to the ground, my hands were shaking so bad. I dropped to my knees, a wave roaring in my ears as I stared at Garrett's dead body. Vaguely, I registered tears streaming down my face. What had I just done?

A second later, Grant dropped next to me. His arm wrapped around my shoulders and pulled me to him. Not only had I just killed someone, I'd killed someone important to Grant. In front of him. His abuser, yes, but that wouldn't make it much easier to watch the man he thought saved him die before his eyes.

"Grant... I'm so sorry," I breathed, the words coming out broken around sobs and gulps for air. I shook my head and buried it into his shoulder, the reality of everything washing over me again and again, like waves pounding into the shore. "I can't believe... I just killed someone. I'm so sorry, I... I've always found another way. Always. All life is precious and important, but he was just so rotten- And he was hurting you- I'm so sorry."

I broke, words failing me as I shook, sobbing, head buried in Grant's chest. He wrapped his other arm around me and held me tight, which only made me feel worse. We stayed like that for a few moments, until I finally got a hold of myself enough to look at him. His eyes remained on Garrett's broken form, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

"Grant... how can you be comforting me right now? After what I did to someone you care about, I-"

I broke off again, the words turning into choked sobs as I ducked my head back into his chest. I squeezed my eyes tight, waiting for Grant to come to his senses enough to pull away. Instead, he sighed, and pulled me closer.

"Come on, is that even a real question?" he asked, his words as shaky as both of us combined. "The same way you forgave me for everything I did. I love you. And... if you, of all people, decided the right decision was to shoot John Garrett? ...Well, I don't know. Maybe he was having a worse impact on me than I realized."

I cried harder at that, relief and sadness and a thousand other emotions that had been warring in my chest all day coming together to be processed as one. After a few moments, I felt Grant's shaky breathing and a few drops of wetness on the top of my head as he cried silently with me. Grief for a lot of things gripped us both, but at least we could cling to each other.

A few long minutes later, we finally pulled apart and helped each other to stand. We were both still shaking, and I did my best to stand between Grant and Garrett's body. It felt wrong to keep my back to Garrett, to let myself avoid facing what I'd done, but I just couldn't make myself do it.

Wordlessly, we wandered back up to the main level of the Bus. Raina still waited here somewhere, but we didn't see her, and we didn't seek her out as we headed for the cockpit. With a few looks, we both knew exactly what we wanted and needed to do. I held Grant's hand tight in my own as we had the Quinjet set down immediately, in the middle of a field in Oklahoma. Neither of us wanted to be on board a second longer.

We walked out of the cockpit and towards the ramp in the back, avoiding any of the cargo bay where so much had happened. We found Raina in the living room, but she didn't try to stop us. Hand in hand, Grant and I walked off the ramp and out into the field. A moment later, the plane took off again, continuing on its original course and leaving us behind.

Grant tugged me closer to him and wrapped an arm around me, and we leaned on each other as the plane disappeared into the sky. Both of us still shook a little, and we were each the only thing keeping the other standing. After a minute, once the plane completely disappeared from sight, Grant spoke in a quiet voice.

"So... what do we do now?"

"...I guess we just start walking."

I looked up at him and our eyes connected for a few moments, holding each other's stares and trying to promise the other that everything would be okay. With Garrett gone, now more than ever, there was nothing stopping us from leaving all the hurt and bad memories behind, and starting over somewhere new. With any luck, Raina would tell people we were dead along with John Garrett, and that would be the end of our involvement with SHIELD and Hydra.

For now, though, none of that mattered. All that mattered was the man standing beside me as we turned, our backs to the plane and its path, and started walking towards our new future, hand in hand and one foot in front of the other.

****************

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @luv-ghostie

[radiant-reid]

Blurb of Spencer and reader angst with fluff whatever scenario you want love

Every time you think about it, you feel lucky to be happily married to Spencer for a few years. From the first time you met, you were a perfect match, both intellectually curious and endlessly supportive of each other's careers.

But recently, things had been rough.

Spencer has been dealing with a particularly difficult case at work, and it has starting to take a toll on him. He finds himself coming home later and later each night, and when he’s at home, he’s distant and preoccupied.

You knew what his job was when you agreed to date him, and it had never been an issue until now. You’ve exercised all the patients and understand inside, and it’s hard not to feel neglected now. It’s important to him, and you know that, but you should be too.

One night, after Spencer has been at work for far longer than he promised, you decide enough is enough. As soon as he walks through the door, you confront him.

"Spencer, we need to talk.” You say firmly.

Spencer looks up at you, his eyes tired and hollow. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it.” You say, probably snappier than you should have been because you surprise yourself with your anger. "You've been coming home late every night for weeks, and you barely even speak to me when you're here. I feel like you're avoiding me."

Spencer sighs, running a hand through his hair. "It's not you, Y/N. It's this case. It's consuming all my time and energy."

"I understand that.” You remind him, your tone softening. "But that doesn't mean you can just ignore me. We're supposed to be partners, remember?"

Spencer nods, looking ashamed. "You're right. I've been so focused on work that I haven't been paying attention to what's really important."

You step closer to him, taking his hand in yours. "I just want to make sure that we're okay. I love you, Spencer, but I need you to be here with me, too."

Spencer's eyes meet yours and you can see the love and gratitude shining in them. "I love you too, Y/N. And I promise, I'll make it up to you. Let's go out tomorrow night, just the two of us. We can take a break from all this and focus on each other."

You smile, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "I'd like that."

The next night, Spencer sticks to his word and takes you out to your favorite restaurant. You talk and laugh, enjoying each other's company in a way you haven’t in weeks.

As you're walking back to their car, Spencer stops suddenly and turns to you. "Y/N, I know I haven't been the best husband lately, but I want you to know that you mean everything to me. I can't imagine my life without you."

Your heart swells with love and tenderness for your husband. The same love you’ve felt for years. “I feel the same way, Spencer. I'm just glad we're back on the same page."

Spencer leans down and kisses her softly, right in the middle of the street. His arms wrap around you in a tight embrace and you deepen the kiss by draping yourself arms over his shoulders. In that moment, all your worries and problems fade away, leaving only the love between you.

From that night on, Spencer makes a conscious effort to be more present in your marriage. He knows that his work is important, but so are you and your relationship. You’re partners in every sense of the word, and he’s determined to never let that slip away again.

[two-white-butterflies]

WAITING FOR A BUS

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Reader, Daemon Targaryen x Reader (MODERN)

Description: A new promotion at work prompts you to move into a small modest town with your boyfriend, Aemond Targaryen. There you meet a few friendly faces. It seems like life is going where it's supposed to. That is until you meet your new boss, Daemon Targaryen, who is your boyfriend's estranged uncle.

It doesn't help with the fact that you've been having dreams about him since birth.

masterlist | chapter twenty

After the conversation, Olenna left the both of you alone - she figured that giving you time to think was important. "He murdered someone. Bloody crazy." you mumbled, retracing the conversations that you had with him - searching for signs that he was only showing you a facade of what he was.

"I knew that he was unhinged, but not fucking mad." he replied rubbing circles on his palms.

When a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin - madness and greatness are their two sides.

"That could've been me," you huffed, forgetting about the coffee in front of you. Aemond has always been - different, anger pumped through his veins and his emotions changed as easily as he breathed. "I wanna get the hell out of here, Daemon." you added, finding comfort in his presence.

"I don't want to see anyone that we know. I don't wanna see Aegon, or Helaena or Alicent." you rambled off, remembering the times that they defended Aemond's hostility towards you. They didn't harm you - but they tolerated the harm that was happening to you.

He would scream at you in front of them, talk about indecent things in your presence, and all that they could say was: it was normal.

Yes, it was normal.

It was normal for Aemond to act that way, but it didn't make it right.

Daemon watches you descend into the past. His hands snake towards the small of your back, comforting you silently with his warm palms. He could see right though you - every neuron and thought that went through your brain.

"Did they know about the murder?" you ask, eyes narrowing at the thought of death. Alicent was a good person, but a mother will go through lengths to protect her children.

He leans into his chair. He takes a deep breath before opening his mouth. "Apparently, Aegon testified in his defense." he answered truthfully, recalling the words that were written in the report. "Fuck, that's messed up." you cursed, burying your head in your palms.

"I-I don't think I can ever look at them in the same way again." you stuttered, a permanent title was etched above their names. Criminals and defenders.

"You don't have to look at them again. We can move away from here - and forget all about them. You studied five-years in law. You can continue studying if you want to." he offered, retracting his hand and playing with his watch.

He's been thinking about leaving for a long time. He's been wanting to finish his Ph.D since he's stepped foot inside Dragonview. He only stayed because there was a reason to stay.

"I'd love that."

(Five-Years Later)

It's been five years since you disappeared off the face of the earth. You can still remember the day that you left: May 8, 2023 - and everything after that was pure bliss.

You and Daemon quickly moved into Switzerland, enjoying the snow - and the scenery around you. He finished studying for his Ph.D a few years quicker than he was supposed to - you however postponed finishing your law degree. Instead, you focused on teaching kinder-gardeners and healing from your scars. The both of you were lucky to welcome your first child, Maekar Targaryen.

After Switzerland - you moved to Siargao.

The warm sand was kissing your barefoot. The shoreline was beautiful in the morning, but the sun was far different than what they had in Canada. There was humidity in the air, and the sun felt like razor blades in the afternoon.

"Do you wanna go for a swim?" Daemon asks while pulling your hand closer to the water.

"It's not safe yet, I don't want to get stung." you whined but he keeps laughing and pulling you inside the water.

The water was warm - slightly colder than the sand. It was comforting to be in paradise - the constant feel of the current on your legs, and his warm hands that were wrapped around yours.

"They're not gonna bite you, I promise." he smiled, placing a soft kiss on your cheek. He was enjoying life - the both of you were. "The last time we took a morning swim, I had to get hauled to the hospital." you recall and he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry for that," he laughed, as the both of you walked deeper into the water. The seaweed was tickling your feet. You tried to avoid the corals and the fishes. The smell of salt-water flooded your nose. You remove your hand from his own. You lift both of your arms, holding onto him for balance.

You couldn't reach the water anymore - and he was the only person tall enough to reach it at this point. "It's nice here," you mumbled, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He smelled like home.

"Let's stay here for a while." you add, his hands wrap around you for balance. "We should live here - I'll buy a house right there, beside the celebrity's house - so Maekar can swim whenever he wants to." he imagined, earning a playful glare from you.

"And who's going to watch him?" you huffed, his hands wrap around you tighter. "Me." he answered, reaching for your jaw with his free hands - pulling you closer and bridging your lips together.

His lips tasted like salt, but his mouth was sweet.

"I love you, Dae."

"I love you too."

You walked slowly to your beach-chair - hair dripping with water. Maekar and the maid were sitting on one of the chairs, watching the sun shine. Your little boy liked being on the beach - he also hated wearing sunscreen, much to your dismay.

He was wily, and talkative. He blabbered about a subject, but none could understand what he was talking about - he was only four months old anyways. He always reached for your hair, bite his father's fingers - and laugh at everything he saw.

He was half of your soul. You love him with all of your heart.

You fish for the phone inside of your bag. There were a few notifications from work and pilates, but one of them managed to catch your eye - it was Rhaenyra messaging you from the abyss.

NYRA 5:49AM It's been a while. I was hoping that you and Daemon could come back here. It's very important. NYRA 5:49AM As you know...Alicent's been struggling with her disease for a long time now. She died peacefully inside her house. Aegon and his kids were there, but she's getting buried a few days from now and none of us know where you are. NYRA 6:00AM It would mean the world for us if you attended. The funeral's being held in the Clubhouse, come whenever. 💚

You read out the long message, tears flooding your vision as the news became too heavy for you to bear. "Daemon!" you call out to him and he emerges from the waves, wearing a badge of confusion.

"Yeah?" he asked, reaching for the towel on the sand. He wraps it around his torso - eyebrows merging into each other as he sees the tears that were flowing from your irises. "Alicent's dead." you informed, before wrapping your arms around him in grief.

"Oh no," he replied, combing through your hair.

He didn't believe that Alicent was part of the family - but she was the mother of his niece and nephews. She suffered under the abuse of her husband, his brother, and that earned her respect. Her existence didn't leave a mark on his life - but it left a mark on yours.

"We need to be there, I need to see her." you pleaded and he nodded his head. He could never disagree with you. "I'll book the tickets. We'll take the quickest flight out of here." he promised while turning his head towards his baby boy. "Hello, Maekar." he leaned down on the chair, taking the boy out of Liz's hold.

"We'll bring him. His cousins should meet him." you inform, staring lovingly at the little boy. He tried to reach for your hair, but Daemon pulls him away.

"You silly boy, always reaching for mama's hair." he chuckles, rocking the baby gently.

next chapter>>

taglist: @urmomsgirlfriend1 @namelesslosers @immyowndefender @ammo2022 @perihelioneclipse @gracielikegrapes @joliettes @ammo23

ONE LAST CHAPTER (for my own self-indulgence)

[a-wilson-collector]

I LIVED BITCH

(cw: noncon/rape, guns, disregard for gun safety, family abuse, forced isolation, medical neglect)

wanted to save this post for until i got to a safe place, but now that i am, i can give y'all a reason why i didn't post much if at all.

its mostly because of my family.

on a scale from 1-10 (10 being the worst, 1 being the best) my mom and dad are 10, most of my dad's side of the family is like, 9.5 outside of grandma n pa. they are like an 8 or 7 depending on how pissy/petty i feel about them. my brother is like, 4. and my sister is the only one whose normal about everything so she's a 1.

the reason my mom n dad are so highly rated is because my mom would lowkey ghost me for the entire summer when school stopped, and my dad is, well, according to mom- "he never takes no as an answer."

makes me think about why i always gravitated towards noncon fanfics for wilson/maxwell. Im still working on that.

grandma n pa are 8 because my grandma defends my dad (and pretty much any violent male member of the family) and my grandpa WAVED A FUCKING LOADED GUN IN MY FACE on the day of the move. if his hand was NOT on the trigger, he could've shot me in any part of my body including my head

my brother is a 4 because he hasn't apologized for beating the shit out of me almost every day until i was 16, but he's gotten a lot better at controlling his anger.

my sister was the only one who realized that the only way she was going to stay in my life was being cautious, but also realizing why i wanted out so bad, since she went through most of this herself.

outside of that, i hid most of my art from my family because i could NOT handle the disappointment that my family would show if that their "adorable daughter" drew a guy ripping his face off, or drawing porn (tho that wasnt until years later, obviously.) thats why most of my art is violent or violent in nature. its what i grew up in. constant fights all the time. cps was called a few times but they didnt do anything outside of adding to the trauma pile

im tired and finally in a safe environment where i wont be threatened to be shipped off my dad's place, which, if that was to happen... I'd lose all of my support network, including doctors and psychiatrists. I'd be completely shut off from the outside world, including my boyfriend and friends on discord. in his mind, the internet is the reason i have such high needs, instead of, y'know, THE 'TISM.

as for my past, i have gone by "noonfish" or some variation of that on tumblr, but that was while i was stuck somewhere in the alt-right rabbit hole on yt since most of my family loves trump, which is why i nuked all of them. I am deeply ashamed of my past and i'm still working on it, i know i can be better tomorrow than i was today. If i had a nickel for every time my grandma defended a rapist, I'd have three nickels, which isnt a lot but its weird it happened with three people.

i understand if people also stop following for my previous "ties" to the alt right (i was pretty surface level, mainly memes), however i was like, what, 16? and extremely isolated to boot. Thank fuck i got anti-psychotics. i was losing my mind for YEARS due to undiagnosed schizo-affective disorder, which was in play since i was 8. I still remember the time i missed my bus going home from school in elementary school, and when my mom had me in the car, she drove into a parking space and proceeded to yell at me to stop telling the teachers because "i was scaring them" because i kept seeing shadow people in the hallways. all the doctors just assumed I was being racist or something? im not sure about that but the only thing that came out of that was me getting glasses (which, tbh i did in fact, need)

after that, it went lowkey until middle/high school, where it resurfaced again and will continue until i fucking die, so thats fun. if I didn't have schizo-affective disorder, i probably still would've fallen for the alt-right pipeline on yt when i was a child (because of unsupervised access to the internet), but at least i'd be able to make a coherent statement about it. i still hate all those people that helped make my mental illness worse to the point i thought only ohio existed for like, 6 months. shit was awful.

so yeah, thats why i've been so on n off. hope to get some art soon since its about time i should do a full render. maybe it will be two girls kissing.

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

Unpopular opinion: I really don't like "Adieu". The text. When I first heard it I thought is this the last song of a Schlagerfestival? "Adieu, goodbye, auf Wiederseh'n"? Srsly? This must be a joke and they sit at home and have a laugh about it. Paul "Det schrapelt dann dicht am Schlager vorbei" Landers votes for such a Schnulze? I like their ballady stuff because they don't make them cheesy and the texts are idk not just stating, not using the most obvious but painting a picture (I read it being compared to using chiffren which I remember from school). "Adieu" just feels so plain and schnulzig, just words with nothing to it. But I have to say that I find many of the newer texts lacking. They may be more refined but for me miss this spark, this inspiration the earlier texts had.

Well...i don't know if it's a really *un* popular opinion, but indeed a lot of people seem to like the song, and imo it really works well live as the closer of a show. Not all songs that work on an album work on stage, but this one does.

But i get what you're saying i think, usually Rammstein songs have a sort of extra 'layer', either because the lyrics have a certain twist, or the music does that...personally (but this will come as no surprise) i like the Rammstein 'ballads' that turn up the guitars and drums at some point and for me that really elevates it to something special

Like Frühling in Paris (especially the 2012 version, with the later live versions they join in later)

or indeed 'Ohne Dich' which paints a great picture (as anon puts it) by itself, and the video adds even more

That said, i kinda like Adieu, although i'm still looking for the full meaning of the video (here at least the video provided a twist 😊) but it's definitely a sing-along, and yes, i can see the 'Schnulze' (tearjerker, maybe we should start a useful Rammstein fan dictionary 🌺) part of it... It obviously passed the Rammstein democracy, and although they all have equal say in it, i doubt anything would get on an album if feisty Paul really didn't like it 😇

Maybe they are getting a bit more open to less anger/provocation with age...and maybe that's only natural (i don't think they would have taken to the balloons as much 30 years ago as they do now), and maybe it's a by-product of the Covid period...friends and loved ones passing away (like Schneider's dad did between the Untitled and Zeit albums)

Rammstein evolves every time we see them, remember when some of them (definitely Flake, but i think others too) commented on thinking it really 'yucky' to do the 'let us see your hands' 'clap along to this" kind of songs...and yet, 'Ich Will' and 'Du Hast' are two of their biggest songs, and always popular with the live crowd (and about both fans complain that they are...'not Rammstein', often meaning not as 'angry' as on the first album).

The first album was 30 years ago, so it's a good thing they aren't still stuck there, or (worse) in the Mutter era. As much as the band evolves, their music evolves with them, it's still Rammstein, but Rammstein at the age they are. That's one of the reasons why i'm glad Rammstein do relatively few covers, because imo their own songs work so well, because they are unmistakingly theirs.. 🌺

That said, i do agree that the texts are sometimes a little bit less layered on Untitled and Zeit; on Untitled i had a feeling there were more texts with just single words, than flowy sentences. On Zeit the song itself, my feeling was that that came back again (i love Zeit the song), but i don't have many warm feelings for f.i. the lyrics of Zick Zack and DT, as fun as they are to yell out loud, those miss a little bit of that spark for me.. 🌺

But like i said, i do love 'Zeit' and f.i. 'Meine Tränen'...for that last one i'd love a video, as i think it could be a follow up to Mutter (this time with all of them in it)

And i ❤️ that we got the Zeit album in the first place...knowing Rammstein, that wasn't so evident in the first place 🌺

[eldritch-queern-magicat]

(Gods, this post got long, and a lot more in-depth than I expected. Proceed with caution if you decide to read about the mess of religious brainwashing I went through. It's really horrible and I do mention violence. If it's not something you think you can read without triggering yourself, please move on to some other post. Maybe spend some time on my cat sideblog, listed on my pinned post. Hell, even if you do read this whole thing, you might still want to visit it, or one of the others also listed.)

We all have programming and baggage to deal with. And sometimes we go all too willingly for the self-flagellation (physical or mental), like we were taught. I decided, after the fusions almost all fell apart, to enter what was essentially solitary confinement. The only part attending to my isolation from the others was Era.

We were kinda like two peas in a pod, even though we were also always in separate subsystems. Era was corrupted extremely fast because he had the misfortune of getting paired to the version of the antichrist in our mind. I was paired to Pandemonum as it's demon. And it was the closest to Galaco, which I frequently took advantage of. But it took time for others to realize what I was doing. Then after foster care, it got easier to whisper provocation to it simply because Nanny didn't have a whole congregation to help control us. I tugged on Pandemonum's strings like a marionette. His anger was easy to manipulate.

Other than that, I personally did a lot of terrible things to other parts early on. I was awful to just about everyone, and one of the absolute worst. Hell, even Era wasn't immune to my abuse. Granted, he learned to be cruel right back, and then somehow we learned to enjoy the mutual torment.

But then the part that eventually named herself Caelienn found a way to balance Era somewhat and get him to behave mostly again. And he found me, before Ash sealed Pandemonum, but also after I'd already done enough to corrupt it. I was put in isolation, but Era kept coming back to keep me company and work me into being a decent part to live with. Every time, he was clear he was trying to use the kinds of methods Caelienn did.

Only some early parts picked up actual names of demons. And more often than not, they were named from male demons. Other non-biblical names only actually came later. But there were too many demons, according to them, to name them all. I got stuck being called Mammon, of all fucking things. Of course I wanted a new name. Era kept trying to offer me different names as options, but I never really liked most of them at all.

There was a certain point in middle school where everything from our original conflicts was forcibly cut off from the majority of the system. And then we just forgot it all. I finally picked a name, but I still didn't mean to get attached to it. It was intended to be at most a placeholder for something ‘better’.

Over time, I did get to know and bond with some other parts. I remembered Caelienn from the little I remembered of his (she's bigender and I want to use both his preferred pronouns) impact on Era. She just totally accepted me, then Jaden (now fused into Maple) and Garnet decided to treat me as their son. Basically adopting me.

I couldn't remember the bulk of childhood except as a vague feeling of shame, though. I still felt undeserving of actual kindness. The instinct to take and do what I wanted, and screw how it affected anyone else, was still buzzing in the background. Some things got better when we started deconstructing the most obvious aspects of our indoctrination, but it couldn't fix it all. Especially not since we tripped into some of the New Age bullshit for a few years. That was a weird time, but at least we learned not to believe everything we'd been taught about various kinds of spirits.

So we never really got to the core of why we were all so fucked up to begin with. It was all locked away from any alters who might ever front. Only the holy side, and maybe a couple of the highest authorities on this side plus Ash, could access any of that information. Us demons were simply on another layer of this side. Of course we were. We were just as affected by the lockout, a borderline reset on everything internally.

I literally don't know what to do yet. When that--whatever the hell happened with Joshua--all those old, buried feelings and urges just flooded right back into my awareness. It was hard to stay aware of the progress everyone had actually made. It was hard to retain my bit of progress.

And when Era pulled me out of my isolation, I did lose control of myself. I was...loose, and I felt a need for violence. For whatever reason, he just let me act out against him and do as I damn well pleased. Then I think I lost all my ability to think for a while when Galaco took me, because what??? As far as I could remember, Galaco was always the scared little tattletale. I didn't know it also felt those same cravings.

At least I guess we're doing well processing the way we were treated as evil. Era seems to confess that he always felt like they treated us like we actually killed someone, or were about to. We physically hurt others, yes. This is true. It's very possible we hurt someone else about our age pretty badly. We probably would have been diagnosed with some kind of conduct disorder, if they believed in psychology (they didn't, big fucking shock).

But who the fuck in reality taught us to in the first place? Yeah, it was entirely them. The fucking assholes who were taking part in what I see as a state-sanctioned kidnapping. They showed us real life violence. We can remember often reenacting parts of the bible in the little girl's bible study group. We imagine that we picked up more violence there than just a little bit. But for us, it was compounded by their inherent sexism. Girls were not supposed to be violent, which only made us even more reactive and angry.

I'm too exhausted to care about our old conflicts. I've got shit to own up to and atone for, but that's another matter altogether. At least no one else really wants to fight anymore, either.

-Kite 🪆😺

[sacrificesoflaresistance]

Doppio x Male reader

I dragged my feet through the rain as I approached the front door of my apartment. I shared it with my boyfriend of 3 years, Vinegar Doppio, who was supposedly out for business at the moment. Assuming he was gone, I burst the door open and let out a loud sob. Once the door was closed, I face planted onto the couch and let out a muffled scream. Everything had gone wrong today. I couldn’t find the words for my emotions, I was overwhelmed with anger, dread, sadness, and the rain that drenched my clothes. I whipped my head around as I locked eyes with my boyfriend. My eyes scrunched and I sniffled disgustingly as another sob wracked my body. I fell forward into the arm of the couch, finding myself hyperventilating.

I soon felt a hand gently set itself on my shoulder. I sat up a bit to try and make eye contact with Doppio, though my vision was heavily blurred with tears. I watched his lips tug into a frown before he leaned in to properly hug me. “Are you okay..?” He whispered to me, just me. I thought I had already reached my breaking point, but apparently not; because that one question sent me tumbling. I gripped onto his sweater as I cried, no, not cried, I absolutely grieved into his gentle hug. Eventually I pulled away, looking at the large wet spot I had left on his shoulder. He removed one hand from around me to wipe a tear from my face. “What happened?” He asked softly, like if he raised his voice I'd shatter like china glassware. I took a deep breath before explaining. It took around half an hour to fully tell him all of my troubles.

Doppio honestly listened the full time, too. Some part of that made my heart ache. He did his best to comfort me, telling me I was strong, that he was so proud of me for making it to this point- he even said I was still pretty when I cried. Vinegar warmed my heart, truly. I don’t know what I'd do without him. I giggled as he pulled me in closer to kiss my cheek, smiling as he noticed me cheering up just a little. He looked at me with true love and adoration in his eyes, the way he stared felt so warm and full of admiration, he always looked at me like he’d be quizzed on my facial features later.

After a few soft seconds of silence, he spoke again. “Do you want to watch a movie? I can order dinner for us!” Vinegar smiled, his expression radiating a childish joy I could never say no to. “I’ll grab some blankets from the bedroom,” I sighed, heart full of loving joy. After grabbing the softest blankets I could find and some pillows, I began to creep back to the living room. I paused for a minute when I heard my dear boyfriend talking; I realized he was ordering my favorite food from my favorite restaurant. How the hell did he remember that? I couldn’t help cracking a small grin before dropping all the things I had grabbed onto the couch.

Doppio laid down first so I could drape myself over him. He pulled up the blankets over us and put on my favorite movie. He kissed my forehead and began playing with my hair. Every so often, I’d hear him whisper some compliment or praise he assumed I wouldn’t hear. When the food arrived, he went and got it for me, telling me to “not even think about getting up!” I stayed where I was, and though I wouldn’t admit it to him, I was enjoying the feeling of being pampered. He was always so kind to me, I don’t know if I could get used to the pampering he delivered. I never rejected it by any means; but it was always a bit shocking, I never knew how to properly accept his tight hugs and gentle hands holding mine, or the praise he’d shower me with for doing such small things.

We spent a good few hours on the couch like that; movies came on and off, both of us simply enjoying each other. Eventually the TV automatically turned off, and we realized it was getting very late; I looked at my boyfriend with a small pout. “Don’t you have work tomorrow? we should go to bed…” I frowned. I didn’t want to go to bed, I didn’t want him to go to work the next day. I wanted to have a day of just us. Doppio seemed disappointed at the idea, too. He stared at my pout for a minute before sighing and pulling out his phone, “I’ll take tomorrow off, just for you.” I quickly grinned and hopped up a bit to wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight excited hug.

My eyes began to droop, my body relaxing as my breathing slowed. Vinegar seemed to pick up on this, slowly sitting up. “Hold still,” he whispered, picking me up like I was weightless. He carried me into our shared bedroom, gently setting me onto the bed. He crawled in with me before pulling the covers over both of us. We were facing each other; legs intertwined, one of his hands gently holding my face. I felt so safe with him, so relaxed. I was on the very edge of slumber. I woke up a bit more as I heard him begin to talk.

“I think you’re asleep… but… I love you. I love you so much, honey! You’re the greatest person I've ever met… You’re so beautiful.. so kind, so.. so perfect. I wish you knew that. I wish you saw the beauty I see in you. You’ll never know the galaxies I see when I look in your eyes… the soft comfort when your hands touch mine…” He whispered, softly, gently. His thumb was caressing my cheek as he used his other arm to gently pull me closer to him. He kissed my forehead, “Goodnight, dear. I love you.”

[icarusthefoolish]

In Memory of Alexander aka Technoblade.

It doesn't feel like it but it's been an entire year without Techno, and to honour his legacy i thought I'd write a little something.

I first got into the Dream Smp a while after the first Major War the war for L'Manburgs freedom. One of my best friends who was staying with me showed me a Manhunt Video of Dream. I didn't even know who he was and i wasn't super interested in Minecraft at the time but i ended up watching the video anyway if only to make my friend happy. The next day when she left i found a short clip of Tubbo who changed his language to German and as a German person myself it made me laugh. That was the time i got into the fandom.

A few months later i came across Technoblade for the very first time, i was at the lowest point in my life at the time, I'd lost all will to live and i felt like a husk of my former self, but somehow Techno's Jokes and attitude made me smile even though i thought i couldn't anymore. The Potato War series was the video i came across and I watched the entire thing because he made me laugh. He made me feel alive again, he made me feel as though my anger and frustration and sadness was valid. I continued watching his videos while keeping up with the Dream SMP when i figured out he joined i basically only watched his POV, I'd be there for every single stream no matter how late it was or how mundane the things he did were. I was a lurker just enjoying hearing his voice in the background while doing something.

And over time i started to get invested in the Lore of his Character, what he stood for and i became invested in the friends he had on the Server. I kept up to date on everything Technoblade, i regularly checked his twitter and watched and re-watched his Videos. I remember when everything went quiet on his end, i was worried, i knew i shouldn't be because he was just a streamer who I'd become attached to but i couldn't help myself. When he posted the video where he explained why he was gone I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I was so happy to see that he was ok, that relief only lasted until he broke the news of getting cancer. At that time my personal life was getting busier as well i didn't have as much time anymore but i tried to keep up-to-date on what was going on. When there was more silence i found myself worried again, but I didn't have the time to worry about what was going on but the thoughts were in the back of my mind basically 24/7 by that time.

I remember the day when i found out about Techno's death like it was yesterday, i was at my schooling, I'd just arrived a few minutes prior and since we still had some time to kill i decided to open Tumblr, the first thing i saw was a picture one of my mutuals posted, I don't remember the exact text but it said something along the Lines of Fly High king. It had Technos crown and sword. I didn't even read the tags under the picture, my heart felt like it had just dropped down to my stomach, i immediately went to his twitter to check for anything, i found nothing, then i went to Google and that was when it got real. I was shown an article about his death and the Video his father posted. I immediately jumped to his Chanel and watched it.

The moment i saw the black Thumbnail and the Title "So Long Nerds" i was in tears, i watched the video but couldn't even make it half way through without sobbing. At some point one of my teachers noticed i was crying and offered me to go take a breather Which i did. I don't think it exactly settled what that Video meant at that time, and the rest of the day was a blur at best. I couldn't watch the entirety of the Video for another 3 months no matter how hard i tried at some point i broke down crying.

I felt like i didn't deserve to mourn Technoblade, I'd never known him personally, I'd only ever known him as Technoblade the Minecraft Anarchist it felt wrong to mourn him so i kept quiet about it. A little while after my 19th birthday i got a tattoo to remember him by, because he'd played a huge part in helping me recover even if he didn't know it. And ever since then every time i got sad about Techno i look at my Tattoo and think "he'd probably laugh about me being sad" and that makes me smile.

I'm thankful that i got to be apart of the community, I'm thankful that i got to experience technoblade. I'm thankful for every single moment i watched his Videos, I'm thankful for the fact that he was what helped me out of my darkest times and while i never got to know him beyond the YouTuber he was I'm still thankful that i got to have the chance to know him as that. I don't know where i would be now if i hadn't discovered Technoblade when i did I wouldn't have made half of the friends i have now.

So thank you Techno, thank you for being there for me even without knowing, thank you for your wonderful videos that always seemed to brighten my days.

Technoblade Never Dies!

I started this a few days before the 30th but i couldn't finish it in time so this is a little late.

[thatonebjp]

"No no no no, this can't be!" I thought to myself, "this can't be real! This has to be a dream!"

After all, what else would you think in such a situation? Accidentally angering a supposed witch, and only moments later you find yourself no longer human. It didn't seem possible, yet here I was. Unable to move, unable to talk, or even see.

All I could do was feel the wind brush against my leaves, and listen to the nature around me. It was very pleasant, actually, but at the time I was too busy panicking to appreciate it properly.

I still had things to do, a job to attend to, appointments to go to, relationships to keep up... or rather endure. A lot of human things to do, things that were constantly on my mind, things to worry me or stress me out. How would I ever do any of these things when I'm stuck as a damn tree?

I took a deep breath. It felt weird, without lungs and all that. Surely this wouldn't be permanent, right? Surely I'd be back to normal within a few hours, and could take care of everything then.

Well, the hours passed, and I was still a tree. My worries only grew with time. How long would this last? The witch never said anything about a time period, was this going to be permanent? I didn't want to be a tree for the rest of my days!

But after reaching a high point, my panic slowly faded again. Let's just make the best of it, I thought, although I might not have the biggest say in that. Again, I couldn't move, or do anything at all, really. But for the first time, I decided to take in my surroundings.

It must have become night by now, as it was much colder than when this all started. But still rather pleasant. There weren't many people around this late, and the few that were remained very quiet. The perfect conditions to relax, take my mind off of things.

Something scratched at my bark, presumably some kind of animal, digging its claws into it. It felt surprisingly nice, no real pain whatsoever. The animal climbed up and jumped around on my branches. It felt a bit funny, and I couldn't help but chuckle on the inside. Within a manner of minutes my worries suddenly faded.

I didn't sleep that night, or at all while being a tree, but I didn't mind. I got the whole night just to relax with whatever animals or people were around me.

The next day, the park was much more lively. People all around, big and small alike, playing together or just going for walks. I was hit by a stray football every once in a while, but the only time it hurt was when one of them broke off a twig, and even that pain was very mild.

I couldn't see anything, but my hearing was great. I heard all the laughing, crying, chatting, yelling, or people noticing the big tree that they were sure wasn't there just a day ago. And I listened. Not like there was anything else I could do. I listened to their singing, their expressions of joy, but also any sign of frustration.

I distinctly remember that night. While nobody else was around, a young kid sat down and leaned against me, and began speaking. First they apologized about making me lose a twig, how they got here past their bedtime to say that. Then they began talking to me about their problems. How they couldn't sleep, had too much on their mind, but didn't have anyone to talk to. Hoped that the "magic new tree" as they called me could listen to them. And I did. Every word they said I took into my heart.

One other night I overheard a confession, one person telling the other how much they loved them, and the other bursting with joy, returning the words eagerly. It was genuine and beautiful, one of the many things to warm my heart.

Both the child and the couple visited me roughly once a week. Seven years old the kid said they were, didn't have many friends, but didn't mind. They had been told they had an overactive imagination, which they saw nothing but good in. They talked about their parents fighting, about school, how good they were at maths, how much they hated PE. And one day, about how they made a new friend, and that friend was just the coolest person in the world to them. And each night, they'd end with a hug, trying to wrap their short arms around me.

The couple seemed to grow closer each and every week, the love they had for eachother becoming more and more clear. Each week they'd meet up for a late night picnic, playing games, joking, having fun, but also having much more deep and personal conversations. It felt weird, being in the middle of that without them knowing, but it's not like I could do much about it. Besides, it was nice just witnessing this kind of love. It wasn't something I saw a lot of in my old life. They even watered me every now and then. One night, must have been the third or fourth visit of theirs, they carved a heart with their names into me, and I was honored to be a permanent mark of their love for eachother.

Well, I thought it would be permanent. After all, I've been a tree for over a month now, what were the chances of that changing now?

Well, just about four months after I last saw that witch, she came back.

"This must have teached you a lesson, hasn't it?" she asked, her voice drenched in deviousness. Really though, I already forgot what I even did to make her mad in the first place.

"Taken away from your life, trapped in an unmoving body, with no way to escape your suffering!" she laughed, and then looked at me. I felt her staring right into my soul, no doubt expecting me to be a pit of regret and despair. But all she could see was calm and happiness.

Indeed, I have felt more love, warmth, and closeness in the past few months than ever before in my life. I got to completely shed all stress and responsibility, and yet felt important to people for the first time ever.

"No no no no, this can't be!" she yelled, "you're not supposed to be happy! You're cursed, you're meant to suffer! Hmph, fine, if this won't do, maybe a more traditional curse will show you!"

And then, within moments, I felt my tree body fade, morphing into a new form.

For a moment, I felt bad, for leaving the ones who this tree meant something to. I hoped the kid's new friend could give them the comfort they seeked in me, or maybe my new form would still allow me to be there for them.

The couple I felt less worried about. I had seen them enough to know they didn't need me to immortalize their love.

Talking of my new form, within the blink of an eye I felt myself falling down. I stretched and looked around for the first time in months. It took some getting used to, but I had the feeling I'd adjust to being a frog just fine.

You angered a witch, and in retaliation, she transformed you into an unmovable tree in a public park. Months later, she returns with the sinister hope of reveling in your suffering, only to find that you are not only surviving but thriving and happier than ever before.